


People Watching

by NeshaTriumphs



Category: Infinity Train (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Au infinity train, Bookstore AU, F/M, Human Trafficking, Infinity Train AU, Infinity train - Freeform, Revenge, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:14:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 71,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27431848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeshaTriumphs/pseuds/NeshaTriumphs
Summary: Instead of doing TW at the beginning of each chapter, I'm going to say right now that the story is dark and has violence against a multitude of persons, including the main characters (though that's mostly in childhood or flashbacks). It's an AU, centered around a few places, mainly a bookstore and can be considered a stalker AU. Grace is a bookstore employee and child advocate with a dark past and mysterious lifestyle and Simon is an author and bookstore regular who is intrigued by her, and maybe downright infatuated.
Relationships: Grace Monroe & Simon Laurent, Grace Monroe/Simon Laurent, Simon Laurent & Grace Monroe, Simon Laurent/Grace Monroe
Comments: 31
Kudos: 20





	1. People Watching: Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy this first short installment.

"Grace, it's me, Simon."

She stammered. She was in so much pain that she couldn't even see… or move really… not in a controlled way, anyhow. All the kicking and screaming she knew her body was doing? She couldn't feel those limbs and the sounds that reminded her of some horror movie more than her own voice seemed to be made of their own accord. 

All she felt was that wound. "I'm going to help you. Can you keep your hand pressed here?" Simon asked. She couldn't and she couldn't really hear him. She knew that she knew him, but… her mind was on her impending death. Her hands were shaky and she was getting weak.

He pressed his hand against the gunshot wound and she screamed and tried to fight him off. Simon had her in a leg hold that she couldn't remember him putting her into. He had one hand pressed against her torn flesh to try to stop the bleeding and one cradling her face while his phone was wedged between his ear and shoulder.

"A woman's been shot…" she heard Simon say. Too weak to scream now (or in too much pain), the rest of the details became fuzzy. As she lost more blood and eventually consciousness, she whimpered. 

All that she could think as things faded to black was, "He shot me. That sick sonofabitch got me." And then she whispered, "Please don't let this be the way I die." Somewhere, she thought she heard the sound of a flatline...


	2. The Urban Market

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, people have been there, but it takes you a moment to notice them...

The publisher was pushing him for something different. Simon didn't know how much more different things could be! He'd built up an entire paracosm over a span of years and gotten pretty successful, in his own opinion. He'd always thought pretty highly of himself, even though he wasn't always great at communicating this.

Esmoroth was his life's work. But, his publisher wanted him to "try something new and diverse." The children of Esmoroth were diverse! And this recent trend of everyone trying to appeal to an "urban market" sounded so much like presumptuousness and pandering… more things he didn't want to say, since he couldn't think of a way to say it without sounding like… he shivered… a conservative.

He just… didn't know enough to write any story that appealed to anyone but his target audience, which he had to believe had someone in this so-called urban market as part of the demographics. Esmoroth was for all mankind, especially the children. Though, he would admit the books got darker with time and catered to an older audience in their current form.

Still… he set off to the bookstore coffee shop, where he sometimes wrote all day, sometimes just did some people watching, hoping to get a spark of inspiration.

That was where he'd first noticed her.

Now that he thought about it, as he watched her move through the store, tending to customers with a flawless smile and brilliant conversation; he had seen her dozens of times before. He had met her in passing.

_She had even come to one of his less successful book signings here and seemingly bought the book out of pity. He remembered it so well now because she asked how many he had left and he told her a full box._

_"I'll take it," she said. "I know a lot of kids."_

_He refused. She worked at a bookstore. He wasn't going to have her do that. "You can have it," he said. The two of them engaged in a battle of refusals. Eventually he won whenever he said, "I should be paying you to take them!" She laughed really loud and hard, almost too loud and hard - as though she knew this statement to be true, and he secretly hoped she didn't feel that way about his work. She slapped some money on the table and said, "Okay. I'll take the books for free, but I'll pay for the signatures. I know a lot of kids, like I said."_

_So, she sat next to him and gave him a name for each book in his box. Whenever he was done, he slipped her money into the box too. She didn't notice that day and if she did later, she didn't bother him about it. She didn't bother him again, to be honest. They passed by each other like they'd never spoken before. Maybe that was why he’d forgotten about meeting her before._

She would come to work, do her job and leave the place with the brightest smile that he knew of… but the saddest eyes he had ever seen, including when he looked in the mirror everyday. Deep, dark brown, without even the slightest hint of light specks, not even when the sun shone on them and they remained as rich as sepia. They were beautiful eyes! Perfect, even in that whatever soul they were allegedly the windows to was boarded up and inaccessible, or just plain old vacant. But… that couldn't be right. There was passion in this woman. He didn't know for what, but for something. He could just tell.

Now that he noticed her, after all of this time, he wanted to learn more.

First part was “easy.” He would learn her name. He didn’t want to go ask someone. That might lead to questions, so he figured that he would simply look at her nametag. It didn’t occur to him that might be a problem since every time he saw her, she was moving around the store while he was sitting in the bookstore’s coffee shop.

He walked through the store, with his bag on his shoulder, nonchalantly pretending to browse the books to see if he could get her attention without asking for it. Whenever he reached the fantasy section, she was making a display for Black History Month. There were displays like it all through the store. He couldn't remember them in previous years and wondered if this was her doing in the place. She felt him staring, though he was trying really hard to be chill and she stood up straight and stared at him. He turned his head, pretending to be looking at a book.

"Anything that I can help you with?" She asked. He looked up.

She was prettier than he remembered her being whenever they had been next to each other while he was signing those books for the kids she said she knew. She looked prettier up close than she had moments ago from across the store. Her skin was amazing. Not just the skin tone (which he found rather nice), but she looked well hydrated and moisturized. She had a glow and immaculate features. He was staring. He quickly remedied that, forgetting that she had offered help and he focused back on the books in front of him. She sighed. "Let me know if you do!"

"Thank you," he finally managed and looked at her name tag, "Grace."

She gave him a weird look and a laugh, "No problem…" she looked like she wanted to say more, but she didn't. Instead, she returned to her display.

"Ummm…" she looked up again, reflexively eager to help. "How are you… uh.. deciding what to put on these displays?"

"Well.. this bookstore has an African/African American section and they just put everything there.” She pointed towards that section, rolling her eyes, then held her hands out in a shrug motion, “It's February. I've taken the liberty of grabbing books that are by the genres and setting these displays up in the genre sections.” She communicated with her hands a lot. Big, fluid movements, like a dance, almost, while her voice was very animated. “I feel like it's easier to navigate and hopefully some of these authors get some sales." Simon had been mentally taking notes of her mannerisms, and almost lost track of her words.

"How do you know which genre each book is?" He asked, generically.

She squinted her eyes and curled her lips, "Because I know books PLUS I can read…" she laughed. "Octavia Butler will always be sci-fi, yeah? And Nnedi Okorafor is fantasy… so….You have no idea who either of them are."

"I've definitely heard of one of those… but I'm not familiar with…" she looked disappointed, but not surprised. He felt ashamed. Not because he didn’t know those authors. He didn’t know a lot of authors. But, because she knew that he didn’t know them. "Truth be told, I do far more writing than reading. I'm ummm… my publisher is asking for something that appeals to an urban audience, so I'm trying to expand my...intake…"

Her eyebrows were furrowed so tightly that her entire forehead was ground together. "Why don't they just give a publishing deal to someone who already writes that content and at least has heard of Black writers?"

"I will be sure to ask in the next email." He was red in the face.

She bit her lip. He was still a customer, and he had a pretty long running relationship with the store. Longer than hers, even. Every company was trying to get into the “urban market," many of them did that anyways - always code word for Black - but recently, all the places wanted to try to pretend that demographic mattered to them. She couldn’t get upset with him for trying to do his job, and even if she could, she still would do hers. “Everybody at this display table is a better writer than you, so I can't make any suggestions that are on par with what you're used to. I can give you some of my favorites and you can see if the synopses interest you?"

"Yes, please. Thank you.” He wondered why he was thanking her whenever he was certain that at least some of what she said was a little bit insulting. “You're very kind and I know I sound insufferable right now."

"I wouldn't say that. You're looking for help. That's one of the reasons I'm here, to help." She smiled kindly and suggested several books. He bought them all. He didn't know if he'd read any of them. But, she had taken him through the store, telling him several of her favorite books. Not only had he learned her name today, but what kind of content she chose to consume. That was a very successful day, in his opinion.

Simon took his purchases back to the coffee shop and started writing. It wasn't anything like his previous things, but it was very inspired. He couldn't stop. Mostly, it was notes and description. Finding the perfect words for this thing that she did with her lips… sputtering? That sounded ugly. What she did was charming and adorable… like sending a thoughtful breeze through the doorway of her lips… that was… too much. "Pppbbbbrrrrr…" he tried to sound it out in his head without doing it and drawing attention to himself.

Her hair was in dreadlocks… but he saw that there was some conversation surrounding referring to them as such, especially if you shortened it to "dreads." "Locs" seemed acceptable, but like… the ones in the photos were not like hers. He didn't even know if they could be considered the same hairstyle or HOW. Most of these were of white people, and looked, just different than what her hair was like. He felt slightly uncomfortable specifying Black people, but… even then… some of the photos still weren't of them. Of the ones that were there, he wondered if there was different language for their dreadlocks vs the others. His audience might not know what he was trying to depict if these were the images that came up when you searched, if he only wrote “dreadlocks.” He highlighted that. He’d maybe come back to it. He probably was overthinking this anyway.

He spent hours on mostly mundane, but extremely meticulous research, to make sure that this new character he was creating would be imagined perfectly by the reader. He wanted them as entranced with her as he’d been when meeting Grace for the first time (well, after he actually noticed her.)

"I need to get my usual, please, and yes, I wanna donate to the babies," he heard that lively voice say. He looked up and she was leaning back against the coffee counter, looking right at him. "You're still here, Mr. Laurent?" She smiled, but her expression seemed a little suspicious.

He laughed nervously, "Yeah…" he shut his laptop. "I was suddenly very inspired after my purchase." She nodded and then her order was ready. He closed his mouth, but couldn’t wipe his own smile away. She knew his name.

After she signed her ticket, she threw him a quick salute with her cup and said, "See ya around. Good luck with the Black stuff for your publisher." She winked at him to let him know she was teasing. He still felt ridiculous though.

He hopped up and rushed to the counter, "Um, I'd like to have one of whatever she just ordered."

The barista made a face and chuckled, "Mr. Laurent, I don't think you would like that.."

"So, no? I can't order it?"

"Of course. Sure. I'll get right on it."

"Thank you!" Simon cheered. Whenever they went to make it, he leaned over to check her ticket on the ticket spike. He couldn't get a clear look, so he snapped a photo with his phone and whenever he got his order, handed over his card with a smile, like nothing had happened. "Thanks again. Can I get a copy of that?" Simon wanted to know her regular coffee order. He didn't know that his pallet could do it alone, and oh boy, whenever he took a sip he nearly choked. What the hell, Grace?

Rose, Lavender, Chamomile infused coffee, heavy non dairy cream, extra sugar, extra shot… WHY? WHY WOULD SOMEONE DRINK THIS??? "It tastes like soap coffee."

"It isn’t much better as a tea. That's what she gets in the mornings if you want to try that."

"No thank you. I've been daring enough for the day. I'll have my regular." It was just black coffee. He added an extra shot to try to wash the flowers out of his mouth, then proceeded to research things about this dreadful coffee infusion. He wound up researching things until it was time for the store to close.

When he got home, then he could really get to work. He enlarged his photo to see the printed name on the ticket from earlier. Grace St. Catherine. Her profiles were all private. Great. He huffed and pushed his bangs from his face. Which of these might have the most to work with? He couldn't send her something on all of them. Probably… the… one with the photos. He sent her a request to follow and only a few moments later, she approved. He knew that he couldn't go through and like all of her photos. She would see and it might alarm her. But she had so many gorgeous ones. He was glad there was a save option… but he wished that he had the right thousand words for each of them.

He didn't know what was happening. He was just people watching, as usual, but, this was far beyond any other time. This was maybe.. not okay.

But… as long as he wasn't being creepy (to her face) or trying to hurt her, what was the harm in longing to know more? What was the harm in needing to see her again as soon as he could?


	3. Mandatory Monroe Mingling

Grace had been waiting to get off of work ALL DAY. Aside from the fact that the bookstore had been even slower business than usual, she had so much to do whenever she got out. She took a sip of her coffee as she left the doors and noticed Mr. Laurent was staring at her AGAIN. That man was a peculiar one. But, she figured it probably had to do with being an eccentric, successful writer and she suspected a recluse, because other authors came into the bookstore, but he was the only regular and he was always alone. At least he didn’t seem dangerous, which was a lot more than she could say for a lot of people.

But, he was weird. She chuckled a little thinking about how he was following her around the store, probably trying to pump himself up to talk to her, then when she addressed him, he totally froze. It wasn’t the first time they’d even seen each other and she wondered, whenever he read her name tag if he was one of those people who didn’t remember faces, or one of the more typical types that couldn’t tell certain faces apart and therefore didn’t know that he already knew her already… or at least should have. She had been working in this store now for five years, two of which she worked the day shift, which was when he usually came in.

Then again, Mr. Laurent was never actually in the store until today. He was always in the coffee shop and all staff was told to never bother him and only accommodate him if he asked for help. That was actually a part of their orientation! Grace tried to read his work before, but it wasn’t really her thing. She liked fantasy, sure, but it just felt like a knock off of numerous other works, compressed into this fictitious place that was a hodgepodge of other places. Like if Middle Earth and Narnia had a baby and it married Wonderland and they adopted Neverland… or something. She couldn’t keep up with all of the convoluted world building long enough to pin down what she even hated about Esmoroth. But, she hated it. She'd never actually say those words to him, probably.

The kids in her philanthropy program seemed to enjoy the books, so they appealed to _someone._ She rushed home from the train, washed up, got dressed and drove to her parents' estate. Whenever she came in, she was immediately transported to the first time she'd come back home, after her years away. Every. Time. She thought about that day and trembled as she crossed the threshold, reminding herself that she was safe from that now, that her life was very different today.

"Miss Grace St. Catherine!" She was announced. Her mother sighed and made her way over to greet her and try not to grumble about her last name.

"We've been waiting for you, Dear. Come, come. I'll introduce you to the new chairman of the board at the Infinity Train Foundation…"

"I'm looking forward to that," Grace said. She wasn't, and they both knew it, but the foundation helped her to get home and she worked closely with them in helping other children with various issues. She didn't care for many of their ways, but they helped a lot of people out and as long as Grace had good rapport with them, she could help plenty of the kids in their programs, in her own ways.

For her parents, that meant financial, but Grace was more hands on than that. She headed several incentives, such as dance classes, reading club, safety drills, support groups, and she pushed for others that sometimes didn't get approved, such as martial arts training and self defense, survival techniques, and crisis management.

Those sounded like great ideas to her, but the Foundation was more interested in making children feel safe and getting them in the mindset to trust in those caring for them in their environment. Those suggestions, the Foundation believed, would make their children feel like they were constantly under attack or unsafe. Grace let it go. She had enough resources to implement these things elsewhere, and she did. She felt bad for the kids involved with the Foundation who might never receive the proper training for an emergency situation, though.

She wished someone would have taught her the things that she now knew. She placed her hand over the scar on the back of her neck. An A with a squiggly line, carved into her skin when she was a kid, to not only show her loyalty to the Apex, but as a sign of ownership. No matter what happened the past few years since she'd gotten out, that reminder would forever be with her. Ms. Monroe wanted to have it removed, grafted, covered, ANYTHING to make it easier to forget that her daughter had been missing for 8 years and came back as an older, darker, broken version of the perfect child that she wasn't watching closely enough and never paid proper attention to.

Grace sometimes thought she refused to have it removed to punish her mother for just that. She spent those years convinced that her parents didn't want her back anyway, certain that they were glad that she had wandered off, that they were happier without her there to be weird and lonely and sad. She spent them wondering, "If they loved me, why haven't they come to get me?" Of course, she knew better now, but unpacking and reprogramming herself would take more time that a few years.

Her father was speaking to the white haired man that she was being introduced to, but he quickly hugged her and began boasting on her - how far she had come, how strong she was, how much of a survivor, and how proud… she loved her parents, but they exhausted her. While her mom would have preferred that those 8 years never happened and believed that she could will them away by remaining in denial; her father seemed to believe that they were the only years of Grace's life whatsoever and her coming out on the other end was her victorious claim to greatness.

Sure, his daughter overthrew her traffickers, started a cult as a teenager, and spent years as a criminal mastermind and destructive thug, but she overcame it and was now the poster girl for fucked up kids whose parents can afford rehabilitation without incarceration. Huzzah! 

There was nothing heroic about escaping to her. They never showed up to rescue her. The only hero she had was a crime lord who killed her owner in a business deal gone wrong. A tatted older woman with a British accent and an "A" in the back of her neck. From that moment, Grace knew that if she wanted to survive, she'd have to save herself. She’d have to be tough, ruthless even, and emulate the power she saw in that queen bitch that day.

They didn't go by names when One was in charge. They all had numbers. Hers had been 148. That's what they called her and what she came to see herself as before her "steward" was killed. Whenever she was free, she took other kids and they were going to revolt against One and be like the woman only known on the streets as "The Conductor." Nobody had ever actually seen One. He was, as far as Grace knew either a ghost or a fake name for whatever organization had so many children from all over the world involved in it's trafficking ring. But the kids left behind.. they remembered Grace. "Leader" of the Apex. Future Conductor. Enemy of One…

Getting arrested for assault somehow was the best thing to ever be happen to her. It got her on the track back home. She had forgotten it was a real place. The rules were so much different than on the streets. The people she knew had changed, too… or she had misremembered them. At any rate, being 18 and beating up a gang leader with a bat should have gotten her hard time, but being a Monroe, the long lost daughter of Ambrose and Gethsemane Monroe… she became an inspirational story instead. She hated it, but she hated the thought of going back to the other life more. Hated to have to remember what happened to Hazel... what happened to others.

So, now, she lived her life as a different woman. She did a lot to try to help children. She worked some place that was low-key and enjoyable. She changed her name and kept all events that weren't already known about her time away her secrets. Atoning for things that she did as a child - things she was forced to do, things she thought she needed to do, and things she did because she wanted to included humoring her parents by showing up to events for their various charity endeavors. They sweetened the deal by having a lot of those be targeted towards helping children have better lives and she was introduced to a lot of people in such positions over the years that she had been back.

Grace was in the middle of pretending to listen to the chairman's son list his entire resume of organizations he'd given money to whenever she heard her phone ding. She meant to mute it before, but now that she had it out, she was surprised to see _"Simon Laurent wants to follow you"_ in her alerts. She laughed a little, phasing out Preston or Princeton, or whatever his name was to scroll through Mr. Laurent's feed. It was mostly photos of a white cat, small humanoid figures and dioramas, press promos for work, landscapes, a woman who she was sure HAD to be his mom, and the occasional selfie. Sure. Mr. Laurent could follow her. Maybe if he saw her outside of work look, he'd get the courage to shoot his shot. Of course, she wouldn't seriously date him, but it would be cool to have a nice guy interested in her for a change.

Mr. Laurent seemed nice. He was pretty cute, too. Plus, he had enough money that if she DID go on a date with him, her mother wouldn't give her a lecture about dating in her "little St. Catherine Bubble." It was similar to her lecture about working with poor people and befriending the lower class.. but magnified by the fear of someone coming in, using up her inheritance and her having a substandard baby for a commoner. It was like her mom didn't know what kind of life she would've had to lead in the empty warehouse the Apex brought kids to… like she refused to know.

It was around 10 pm whenever Grace left her parents' home, promising to make plans with them soon. She drove home listening to music and sat in her car for a while, establishing her schedule for the next couple of weeks. Mandatory Monroe Mingling was done for this month and next week: _Date Night with X, 1:48 am._

The walk to her apartment building wasn't long, but she always felt a sense of dread whenever she walked alone. She always imagined a white stretch limousine with gold decorum pulling up beside her and a slick fellow in the back rolling the window down to ask, _"Say, young thing? You look like you wanna get away for a minute. Let me give a you a ride to some place nice."_

When you're 10, nice things seemed like they belonged to nice people and taking a ride to a nice place with a nice man? What a concept! Especially when the last thing you did was something SO silly to get your parents' attention. Maybe if she went someplace nice for a little bit, that would make them miss her, make them see that she was worthy of being noticed… 

She saw headlights and gasped, turning suddenly as a random car passed by, not even paying any attention to her. She laughed at herself and went inside.

Mr. Laurent hadn't liked any of her photos, so maybe she was wrong about him being attracted. He probably just needed some books to try to appease his publisher and sought out the only Black person on staff at the bookstore to help him, then added her page just because people do that sometimes. "Oh well. You don't need a nice guy anyways. Probably would just get in the way…" she looked at the photo of her next date, pinned to the wall, and she stuck a sticky note on the face of the one from her calendar and wrote: Sunday night, Valentine's Day and drew a heart on it. Her phone dinged again. She looked at it 12:45 am.

_Simon Laurent liked your photo_ … she checked on the photo. It was one of her and her pet turtle, reading on the balcony. The caption said: Trying to read The Book of Esmoroth to Hazel. Neither of us are very impressed. "Oh my God!" Grace said, laughing. She had forgotten about that! Now, he'd seen it. She didn't know if he liked it for shade, to let her know that he knew, or if he planned to come back and try to say something nasty about it. She took a little thank you card from her stationary and quickly doodled a drawing of herself and Hazel and wrote, "Sorry we didn't nice to your book." She wrote his name on the front, stuck it in an envelope, tossed it in her bag and figured whenever he was next in the store, she'd hand it to him. He usually came once every couple of weeks, sometimes once a week and ever so often like twice a week, so she's see him soon, she was sure.

She didn't expect to see him the next day, and at one of her displays, at that. "Mr. Laurent. You're here again, two days in a row," she noted, digging through her bag for the little card.

"Yeah… somebody in one of my group chats told me that I needed to get some children's books by Black authors, so.. I'm trying to do that."

"You're in the comics, graphic novels and manga section.. kids' books are by the big gorilla with the tubas on her shoulder." She pointed towards the landmark as she described it and handed him something with her other hand. "Also, here."

He furrowed his eyebrows and took it. "Thanks, and thanks.." he marched towards the gorilla and she went to go clock in.

Simon stopped to look at the card as soon as she was out of his line of eyesight. How. Cute. He felt better about the fact that she didn't like his work, now. Also… she was pretty good at drawing. He was going to have this framed.

Grace stopped at the coffee shop for her floral tea and to shoot the breeze with the morning barista before getting back to the sales floor. Her phone dinged. _Ugh. Was her mute option glitching?_ She smirked and shook her head. ANOTHER Date Night? So soon? She hadn’t even had her Valentines’ Day date yet but okay. She'd check this guy out for herself, later.

For now, she went to go find Mr. Laurent in the kids' books section. Maybe she could kill some time by helping him again… and perhaps flirt. Just because she didn't think they'd ever date didn't mean that she couldn't flirt a little. She was emotionally unavailable, not dead.

He already had an arm full of books when she found him. "So… you need help?"

"I've picked up every book that I saw a Black child on the cover of. I don't know if I can be trusted to do my own shopping in here." She laughed and took some of them off of his hands. He was staring again. She stopped smiling and stared back. "Sorry… it's.. you have a very infectious laugh."

"Then why weren't you infected with laughter?"

"I was laughing where I always do. In here," he said, pointing to his chest. She laughed again, harder this time.

"You're hilarious, Mr. Laurent. If things don't work out with the publisher, you should at least do something with your comedy." He couldn't tell if that was her honest opinion, her being sarcastic, or some other option, but he really enjoyed being able to talk to her. This couldn't continue like this, pretending to need books to get close to her. He had to at least try to be a normal person and get her to hang out with him when nobody was paying her to. That way he would see her outside of her business mode. He’d comprehend her as a person and as a character more..

"What would be hilarious is if I were to ask you out… and you said yes. Wouldn't that?" He bit his lip. What a fucking bizarre way to collect himself an L. She did laugh, though. So… one bright side. She quickly stopped and looked bothered though, so no bright side.

"Ummmmm… I think that would be a train wreck for you, Mr. Laurent. I'm not somebody that you wanna go out with."

"It's okay. I expected you to reject me." He wanted to run out of the store and literally never step foot inside of it again.

"That's not it! I have too much to sort through to go on a date with someone like you. You seem very put together and content. I almost always bring disaster with me. I don't like to make other people's lives messy."

"That's valid. Thank you." He rocked on the balls of his feet.

"You want me to put these books away?"

"No, no, no… I'm gonna buy them. But, you will most likely never see my face in here again," he joked. She looked sad. "Just kidding. I'm very much a creature of routine. There's no way that I'm trying to find a new bookstore at my age."

"You're only 20 something, right?"

"Twenty FIVE. That's practically 30!"

She shook her head, "I'm also 25, but definitely only going on 11." They both laughed as she helped him to the counter to check out his books. Her phone dinged and her coworker asked," Who's blowing up your phone? Another hot date?" Grace threw her coworker a look and Simon frowned and looked at the books on the counter. _So.. she does date… but just not somebody like you._

"He's being facetious," Grace offered, sympathetically. Simon wanted to crawl into a hole. He waved a hand like it was nothing, but his entire pained face and damp eyes told everyone that was a lie. He took his books and rushed out as soon as his ticket was paid. "What is wrong with you?" Grace asked her coworker.

"I didn't know that Mr. Laurent was trying to hit!" Grace covered her face with her hand and shook her head. After that, he just MIGHT find another bookstore. Poor Mr. Laurent. He was a really nice guy. 


	4. Upon Further Research

Simon was fine. That’s what he kept having to tell himself. It wasn’t like he truly wanted to date Grace St. Catherine. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. He had far too many habits and personal ways that made others uncomfortable or annoyed. 

The last woman he attempted to date didn’t like the fact that Samantha had her own room and that she was only allowed to enter it if Samantha had approached her to be friends. If Samantha was uncomfortable, she would mewl about it and he didn’t want that type of upset over someone who didn’t have to live with her adjusting to something she didn’t like. 

The last man he dated had an irrational hatred of the fact that Simon purchased multiple types of milk for different times of the day or different kinds of enjoyment. He never thought he would see someone have such a reaction to the fact that he wanted whole milk for cereal and to warm up at the end of the night before bed, low fat milk for milkshakes and accompanying a grilled cheese or a cheese and egg sandwich, and skim milk for drink mixes and casual throughout the day enjoyment. “Just buy one kind of milk and stick with it!” Truth be told, sometimes, Simon also bought 2% milk whenever he wasn’t feeling that great and nut milk for cooking. He just… couldn’t explain that it made a difference to his consumption and couldn’t understand why it made someone else so frustrated. 

But, it reminded him that he had unique quirks that people found basically unacceptable. Grace seemed like a cool person, but she probably would be irritated to open his fridge and see 6 different types of milk too. Or to have Samantha refuse to acknowledge her and therefore not be able to enter Sam’s Sanctuary… or even just be annoyed that there was a room with cat trees, a little playground, cat toys, waterer, feeder, etc, and a cat that spent most of her time in the windowsill instead of acknowledging all of the luxury that had been collected for her.

Then again, it was unfair to assume what people might not like about you or your life. He couldn’t know for sure. All that he knew was that she wasn’t interested in going out with him. 

That should have been the end of it, but he was very curious about that comment that her coworker made about “another hot date.” Did she have a lot of hot dates? What exactly constitutes a hot date?

Going through her photos didn’t help with that. If she regularly dated, she certainly didn’t like anyone enough to put them on her social media. Though, she did see in one of her comments she said something about VDay “my hands will be full. Worry ‘bout yourself," she’d told somebody who asked if she was trying to get “wifed up for VDay,” as a response to a photo of her in a stunning red dress, captioned with “Beneficiary Gathering #GraceLoveTheKids” She didn’t have a location, so he searched “beneficiary gathering” and came up with SO MANY things. He sighed and went back to her hashtag, wondering if it was common for her. 

She used it pretty frequently! There were photos of her at a children’s hospital, photos of numerous kids, some at some center, some at parks and stuff… She really didn’t put a lot of information into her captions. Most people loved to tell you location and event and every single detail. The fact that she didn’t made her more appealing to Simon. She liked her space. He liked his too. He could relate… but also… he needed to know more. 

It’s not a violation of her privacy if I don’t use anything against her. I'm just intrigued...

.

A few days after the date debacle, Simon found his way back into the coffee shop, this time with Samantha with him. Grace noticed him come in and sit down, but she was at the cash register, helping a customer out. When she finished, she waved to him, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was petting his cat and scrolling something. She let out a disappointed sigh. Of course, Simon had noticed her. Every single detail, including that sigh. That made him a little hopeful that perhaps she would come over and engage. Maybe meet Samantha, even. She didn’t, though. She worked as usual and didn't seem to even glance his way again.

Grace went across the street for lunch. The little deli had a small selection, but they had something that she couldn’t get anywhere else in town - chicken taco pinwheels - and she was hooked on them. She’d order a dozen of them with two pickle spears, homemade potato chips with cracked pepper and sea salt, and ginger ale with cherries. It was one of the highlights of her day to get that very same lunch any time that she worked. When she was leaving today, she almost ran into Simon. She gasped and hugged her lunch to herself. “Mr. Laurent. Sorry. I’m usually pretty aware of my surroundings. You didn’t sneak up on me, did you?” she teased and winked an eye at him.

“You know… People usually call me Simon,” he said, smiling.

“People call you?” she asked. He blushed and laughed. “Of course I’m kidding. It’s just easier to call you that because of the policy and stuff.”

“The policy?”

“At the bookstore. Normally, they don’t care if you get familiar with regulars and they share their names, but since it’s you, we’re not supposed to bother you and were told that we were to refer to you as Mr. Laurent. It’s part of orientation. I remember very vividly saying, “Well excuse me, Mr. Laurent!” She exaggerated the Frenchness of his name and he chuckled at it, then stopped and looked serious. “Because, I’m kind of a goofball. Didn’t mean anything by it..”

“No, no. It’s fine. I just think it’s weird that they do that. I don’t mind being spoken to like a normal person.” That wasn’t completely true. He hated being interrupted if he was working or doing something with a hobby…

“Okay… Simon, then,” she said with a smile. He could only give her one back in return. “And who is our little pristine friend?” She asked. Samantha was on a leash, and standing, staring, almost as though she were waiting to be introduced to this strange new person. 

“This is Samantha.”

Grace stooped down and Simon tensed up. She smiled and said, “Hi, Samantha. I’m Grace. I work at your daddy’s favorite bookstore. I’ve seen a lot of photos of you, and might I say, you are radiant! Exuding opulence! You own EVERYTHING!” Samantha stepped forward and rubbed herself against Grace’s knee. “Oh, you are so adorable, but I can’t pet you right now! I’m holding stuff.” Grace stood up, looking sad as Samantha continued to rub against her shoes until Simon gathered her up. 

“She never does that. Sorry..”

“No, she’s majestic. Maybe Daddy will bring you around to see me again some time, sweetie!” She blew kisses at Samantha, nodded her head to Simon, called out, “See you tomorrow, Chief!” (to which the deli owner waved). 

Simon came up to the counter and noticed the man staring at Samantha. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought her inside of here. “I’m going to have whatever she just ordered, to go, please?” He waited out of the way, just in case having an animal in their eating space might bother someone. 

Her deli order was better than her coffee order, that was for sure, though that wasn’t hard to beat. He shivered thinking about it. He ate in his car and pulled up to a trash bin to discard things. Samantha was sleeping very comfortably in her safety carrier. 

Grace got off of work and danced out of the door, holding her perfume laced coffee. She looked up at the sky for a moment, checked her phone. He looked up too. It might rain. She didn’t seem too bothered, merely curious. She walked through the neighborhood, the wind was blowing her sweater and she was drinking her coffee, speaking to various people as she passed them. How did she DO that? Simon barely liked speaking to the people that he knew. She couldn’t have possibly known most of these people, though maybe she saw them everyday, but that meant nothing. Was she cordial and warm all of the time?

She stopped at a florist and he watched through the window as she seemed to know the guy in the flower shop too. They chatted for a while until someone came from the back with what looked like a package. It was one of those big yellow mailing envelopes and the woman who gave it to her walked her over, away from the counter to speak with her before handing it to her and hugging her. As Grace came out, she said, “Thanks! See you next time…” The guy behind the counter rushed to hand her a flower and she hugged him too. Simon… didn’t like it, even though it seemed perfectly friendly and she seemed like one of those people who probably hugged her friends and stuff. Maybe. He didn’t know enough yet. Hadn’t collected enough information. 

She slipped her package into her bag, handed her presumably empty cup to the guy and he went inside and threw it away for her as she left. Simon lost her once she went into the train station. But, he felt like he collected enough information for the day. He wondered if this was daily, or if she deviated what she did after work. He continued driving past the station and headed home to work on all of his notes and more research. 

One thing that he noted was that aside from her social media, he couldn’t find much about Grace St. Catherine. And, that wasn’t even much to go by, because aside from everything being private, what she shared was still limited. 

But. The guy at the florist shop followed her. Simon checked his page. Heath Farmer *152 Simon didn't think much of it whenever he read the generic name, just scrolled through photos. None of them had Grace in them, but she was in his comments a lot and vice versa. It led to nothing.

He clicked on someone else's page who was speaking with them in the comments. Jalicia Barrett * 227 "Huh." He went to find others that he saw speaking in similar circles and several had no numbers there, but there were quite a few others that did have a number listed, and some were kids or teenagers. Maybe something to do with some of Grace's child benefits? He couldn't find what tied them together… But then he saw someone's page and Grace was actually in photos ON it. "Xander Helstrom *747…" 

His profile pic was a younger photo of himself with pink hair, wearing a chin guard on his face and a bandana on his arm. 

But, all of his current photos indicated he was older now, probably early 20s or late teens. He and Grace seemed close. There was a photo of him with her pet turtle and sliding through the set, it was the day that she bought it. So… they were most likely really good friends, or something else… Simon found himself looking at every interaction between them that he could find. They spoke like they had known each other a long time and from what he could see, this was the only person who had photos of her in her space. Maybe they were in something complicated? He searched Xander's other accounts. His Tweets were mostly about child welfare and social justice. His Facebook seemed similar, but also had memes and photos of himself and memorials for children. One caught his attention. The drawing looked similar to Grace's art style and it was of a little girl with the caption, "In honor of Hazel. She was never a number and she changed us for the better." 

There were several people who commented. "To Hazel, never a number." But, then Simon saw Grace's comment.

"Hazel taught me not to worry and not to rush. She helped give me empathy and a reason to fight. I never would have made it without her. To Hazel, never a number. Always a friend."

Simon looked at the time on his phone. "Crap." It was 2 am. 

He finished compiling all of his notes and went to bed. He was very curious what those numbers meant, but he couldn't dwell on it at the moment. He'd have to sleep well into the day to make up for staying up tonight. Tomorrow, he'd have to leave his car behind. He needed to know what happened when Grace got on the train. 


	5. Date Night

He had watched her for a week now, sneaking into the train station, following her from a different car of the same train, and noting her actions. This week alone, she had been back to the florist twice and neither time got flowers, but exchanged packages and files. That made Simon curious if she was doing something illegal… if she was, that was her business. He wasn’t going to confront or challenge her about such a thing, and he wouldn’t know what the hell he was talking about, even if he did. She had been to see that Xander guy a few times. They didn’t greet each other like lovers, so that relieved him, but they had a bizarre series of habits, as well.

For instance, she met him at a few different places, at different times - once at a children’s hospital, once at a crisis center, and once at a shipyard… where did this guy actually WORK? And why hadn’t she waited until he was home or something to visit him? Plus, they usually didn’t talk long enough to seem to necessitate a visit and they always exchanged something - papers, a card, one of those big yellow envelopes like the one she picked up at the florist. And without fail, every time Grace left the scene, the guy looked around, suspiciously, like he expected to find someone after him or something. He cracked his knuckles, smoked from a vape, and left about 10 minutes after she did. Simon knew this because he became slightly more interested in finding out more details about him, now. 

Besides, he now knew where Grace lived. He could always check on her afterwards. She always went home fairly early in the night, and when he drove back to stake things out, she would always be inside all night… Until Valentine’s Day. He decided to keep an eye on her as much as he could from his car. 

When she got off of work, passed through the neighborhood on her way to the florist, he saw her wolf down her coffee and double dutch with some neighborhood girls for a moment (they were almost as impressed with how well she did that as he was). Simon would have tripped over both ropes and busted his face on the concrete, probably. She hugged the girls, took a few photos with them (they had been recording the jump rope session), then she continued on to the florist. 

This time, she actually picked up a bouquet. The two people there spoke to her with very concerned body language. God, Simon wished he knew what they were saying. But, whenever she went home, he drove there and beat her, because she took the train. After she arrived, she went inside, where she usually disappeared while he worked on his notes. He’d gotten into even fleshing out the character based on her at this point. 

A mysterious loner with a potentially dark past, or maybe not a dark past, but some sort of deep secret… She came out a few hours later, as he expected, because he’d heard she had a date tonight. But, she wasn’t dressed for a date. She had on something black that covered up everything and she went to the parking lot and… got into a car? A very expensive car, at that… One that he was curious to know how she could afford from a bookstore. He started the car and hoped that she wouldn’t notice him following her, because he HAD to know what was going on, now…

Grace drove to a cemetery… Oh shit… He felt invasive now. He was going to turn around and go home, but whenever he saw other people, in an outfit similar to hers - dark clothing and red flowers, he was just too curious. Maybe this had been a kid they knew? They all met up at a grave and Grace set the bouquet down, touched the gravestone and shared words that Simon couldn’t hear. But, from what he noticed, they were responding in unison to something. Maybe there had been some type of prayer that they had all learned. Grace stood up and made a hand gesture at everyone, and one-by-one, they said something and laid their flowers down. By the end, most of them had left, with the exception of Grace, a teenager with an eyepatch and another Black girl who almost looked a little bit like a slightly younger Grace. They hugged her and left her alone, to talk to the grave by herself. 

Simon was almost tempted to go check on her, but he knew that there was no reasonable explanation for why he would be there. It was a good thing, because Xander showed up. He didn’t have flowers, though he was dressed in all black. Grace noticed him and rushed to hug him, crying. He rubbed her back and looked around suspiciously, like he always did. Simon leaned back, hoping he was far enough away that Xander didn’t notice him. The two headed out. Simon checked his surroundings, wondering if he could potentially come back later and see whose grave that was. But, he saw Grace’s car and ducked. She drove by him, Xander in her passenger’s seat and Simon waited until he couldn’t hear the car to get out. 

“This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up.” he told himself the entire way to the grave. It was no longer people watching. He was literally stalking this woman and NOW, he was getting into what was very personal and probably painful business of hers! But, he couldn’t stop himself. He kept going until he reached the grave. He took a photo of it and read the stone. Todd Adler… That name sounded familiar, but the dates indicated that this was indeed a kid when he died… but… he had been dead for years. Grace would’ve been either a kid herself or a teenager when this person died. Simon did the math - 17 or 18, depending on when her birthday way and the kid would’ve been 10. 

He got back into his car and rushed to Grace’s. He didn’t want to miss her date… unless of course THIS was the date and it was just more comfortable to tell people that instead of mourning somebody who died 7 years ago. 

Then again, she and that flower dude had spoken about it and she talked about it like it was a date, not like whatever this was. Her car was in the parking lot, so he presumed she was at home. He saw Xander on her balcony, with his vape. Ugh. That guy and his constant looking around. Why was he so paranoid? He went back inside and eventually left in a different vehicle. A van that the florist dude pulled up in. Simon was never one to jump to rash conclusions… well… that wasn’t true. He was, but he didn’t want to do that with regards to Grace, but everything gave him a bad vibe. “Maybe you’re just paranoid that you’ll be caught literally stalking this woman. How will you explain this? I know zero Black people, so I followed one around that was nice to me a couple of times for insight and wound up being super obsessed with her after a few days?” 8 pm came around, then 9, 10… And he was sure that she had either cancelled her date or it had only been a code word for the memorial. He was going to give it until maybe 11… Maybe 12… 

Midnight, someone came out of Grace’s apartment building wearing all black, with a white mask with blue flame design on the eyes. This person moved like Grace, and was shaped like her. He was certain that it was Grace in a mask. Whenever she went walking down the street, he knew that walk. It was Grace. She had on a backpack and was moving pretty fast. The street was quiet. If he tried to follow her now, there was no way that she wouldn’t see him. 

A van pulled up and his heart skipped a beat. It looked like she was about to be grabbed or hurt or something. But, she reached up and two hands pulled her in.. The van pulled off before the door even shut. Simon followed it. If he was caught, so be it. This was just too much of a mystery for him to leave alone. 

About an hour later, the van dropped her off and pulled away. He wasn’t sure where they were heading, but he continued to watch Grace. She walked to a house, ducked in the bushes and opened her backpack. She threw something at the house. It didn’t work, so she kept it up. Whenever the lights came on in the house, she hid. Simon was holding his breath, unsure of what he was seeing or why, but unable to leave. A man stepped outside and looked around. He said something like, “Goddamned kids!” or the like. Simon was too preoccupied with Grace sneaking into his home while he was out on his porch! “Oh no… what is she gonna do?” He didn’t know anything about this man. He didn’t know if she was about to rob him to pay for an expensive car that she couldn’t afford at her paygrade, or if she knew him and hated him and was about to do something even more terrible… but he wasn’t going to stop her. 

That was when he really realized that he might have a serious problem. Whatever Grace and her friends intended to do to this man that he knew nothing about, he wasn’t going to turn on her. He wasn’t going to call the police. He wasn’t going to warn the man. He was just going to wait and see what happened… and he felt it, even in that moment - whatever happened, he was with her. He was on her side. The man went back inside and a few minutes later, the lights were off again. Simon didn’t see anything for a while. 

Around 1:45… he checked his phone - 1:48, actually… lights came back on. 

He sat up in anticipation. Would he hear screaming? Would she need him?? He was more worried about her than whoever the person she had tricked her way into his home, masked and dressed for crime. He just didn’t want something to happen to her. But, he was scared to get out. If she was fine and she saw him, she would never trust him… and somehow, with her doing something that no reasonable person would consider anything but dishonest… he wanted her to trust him.

The van pulled back up and three figures in all black got out. Grace opened the door and they went inside. A few minutes later, two of them carried out a body bag… Simon gasped. Grace was the last to leave the house. She shut the door and spray painted a red A with a squiggly line on it. Simon… didn’t know what it meant… but he was horrified. This time, scared enough not to follow the van after he heard them all laughing as she got inside… they… killed somebody… SHE killed somebody. After the van left, Simon drove home. It was well past 2 and he was so tired that he couldn’t imagine doing anything else tonight… He took a shower, cried, threw on a crop top and a pair of gray sweats and pulled his hair up into a bun. He felt like he needed to write down every detail of tonight, so that he wouldn’t forget, or wake up in the morning and convince himself that he imagined everything, that his mind played a cruel joke on him to punish him for watching this woman without her permission… but… that happened. He had witnessed or at least been able to assume he’d seen evidence of a murder. He hadn’t called anyone. He hadn’t tried to help. He had just sat there. 

She said that she had baggage, but this was a little more than that! Simon climbed into bed and checked her social media. Nothing since earlier. But, he did get her in his “people you may know” on another site. Maybe… he could excuse sending her another request. He could always honestly say, “You came up in my people you may know.” Any. Other. Person. Would be running for the hills, Simon! He fussed at himself. You saw her probably kill somebody. You saw her and her friends at least kidnap somebody, or take a body bag’s worth of valuables from their home. Either way, you saw a criminal at work tonight. He sent the request and to his surprise, she quickly accepted. The app automatically prompted him to send her a message to say hi. He wasn’t going to. A few seconds later, he got one from her. 

“Happy Valentine's Day!” He smiled, forgetting his fears of just moments before. 

“*Belated.” he replied with a smirk emoji.

She sent one with the tongue out. “See you around. Just wanted to say hi.”

“Thank you.”

Grace put her phone away and Xander asked, “That the weird stalker from the book shop?”

She laughed, but defended, “He isn’t a stalker. He’s just not very good at communicating with people.” Xander shook his head and dragged the body bag across the field. “You of all people should get that. You get mistaken for somebody creepy and up to no good all of the time.”

“And it’s always valid,” he said. “You were smiling pretty hard. You like him like that?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe. I have no frame of reference for people that I can trust, so you know how it goes - can’t tell if what’s off about him is my own paranoia or if he’s really weird.” She opened the body bag and the man was squirming, his mouth tied up. Grace removed it. He screamed and she sighed, “Dude, I didn’t take this off of your mouth somewhere that screaming would matter…” She laughed. In her backpack, she had papers, files, photos, etc that she began showing him. “You might not remember this, because you’ve done it so much that all of us are basically numbers to you, but there once was a kid that you called 214. I knew him for a long time, at the warehouse. He was usually on surveillance. You had him reporting shit and whenever he tried to leave with me, whenever I began to rise to power, you shot him… right in the face. 10 years old.” Xander’s fists clenched. “You won’t be so lucky. You’ve lived far too long without having to answer for a shot in the face. 

“148… listen… I remember him. I remember. It still bothers me. I made a bad choice…”

“A bad… choice?” She laughed. “1K… does that sound like a bad choice? Shooting Todd in the face for defying him?”

1K (the slightly younger Grace) brandished a blade, “I don’t know. I’ll make some mistakes and see what he thinks then…” The man’s cries rang through the night in the empty field. The hole had already been dug and whenever they slid the body bag into it, he was still alive. They’d gotten good enough at this. 

They were casually talking as he begged them not to bury him. They shoveled the dirt into the hole as he screamed himself hoarse. He made sounds even as dirt went into his mouth and nostrils. Xander advised Grace to maybe give the dude at the bookstore a chance. 1K had class in the morning and 152 was going to have a terrible day at the florist if he didn’t get rest soon. They finished and Xander got everyone home. “You okay?” 

“Yeah. It just… it helps, but it doesn’t bring them back. It doesn’t ding the ones that are still out there. It doesn’t fic the ones that they’ve broken beyond repair.”

“No… but it stops them from increasing their numbers.”

“Barely. We’ll never figure out who One is. We’ll never end this operation and if we do… there’s rings all over this country, all over the world doing these things and more. We barely make a dent.”

He reached for her hand and she looked at him. “A dent is more than our friends will ever be able to make again. We do it for them, not for us.”

“Todd would have loved to see Sunny slice him up.” 

“He was such a violent kid… but I mean… coming up in the warehouse… there weren’t a lot of other ways to be.” 

Grace kissed him on the cheek. “We have each other, at least... Other people who understand.”

“The Apex sticks together.”

.

Grace didn’t see Simon for a few days. She had been expecting him for some reason. When he didn’t show up, she had to remind herself that he didn’t come everyday and that he didn't have to. When he finally did, she found him and he froze up when he saw her. She looked a little surprised, but tried not to pay it much mind. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I didn’t expect to see you.”

“Oh… well… you’d said it was okay to bother you. Sorry. I’ll go back..”

“No! It’s fine.” He smiled and held his hand out to the seat across from him. “How are you?”

“I was thinking about you. About… whenever you’d asked me out?” She sat down and wrung her hands, “I meant what I said, but I wanted to clarify that it didn’t mean that I didn’t wanna go out with you. It didn’t mean that I don’t like you either. I really wish I could get to know you better. I just… don’t know if knowing me would be good for you.”

He sat, staring at her thoughtfully for a while, then said, “What if I tell you something that I wouldn’t dare tell anyone. Something… a little bit crazy and maybe wrong?”

“I guess that might help me feel a little better.”

“Will it help you say yes to going on a date with me?”

“Hmmm… depends on the thing,” she said, but she was smiling and had already decided that whatever milquetoast secret he was going to tell her, she was gonna go on a date with him. She wanted a real date for a change. Not her typical “date night.”

Simon took a deep breath and said, “I’m a stalker.” She laughed and then looked alarmed. He bit his lip. “I… rationalize that as long as I’m not hurting anyone, that it’s okay. That as long as I keep my distance and my sanity, nobody is in danger and it’s not that much of a problem.” His eyes eyes damp, “But, that’s not true, is it? There’s a victim, whether or not they know it. It’s wrong to follow people, to watch them, study them, research them, learn dark secrets about them that they didn’t want to share. It’s a violation.” He took a deep breath. 

Grace did too. “I wasn’t expecting that… but… if you’re really not hurting anybody, don’t beat yourself up too much. You can probably still get some help for it. SOme of us are way too far gone.”

“Is that what you think of yourself? That you’re too far gone?”

“It’s what I fear.”

Simon reached over and touched her hand. “I think you’re perfect. Whatever is wrong with you… it’s right for someone who truly wants you.” 

She pointed, “Can I get a sheet of your paper?” He slid one over and she folded it into a bird and wrote her number on the side of it. “I need to try to date a nice guy for a change. Don’t stalk me. It’ll scare you off before we ever have a chance to have a nice dinner.” He just stared at her. If she only knew. There was nothing she could do to make him not want her. He knew that, and hopefully someday, he could let her know that too. 

Grace waved at him and got back to work. He noticed that she was in a very good mood for the rest of her shift. She stopped for her coffee, smiled at Simon and advised him, “Don’t stay here all night, Simon.” He shivered in a good way when she said his name. He watched her leave. He wasn’t going to follow. Not tonight. He looked at the phone number on the paper swan. Maybe he wouldn’t even have to again. 

.

Grace danced into her apartment, and went directly to her Date Night wall where there were other photos of people. Many of them had an X across their photos in red lipstick. The tube was on a little magnetic holder like a dry erase marker. She picked it up and drew an X across her date from last night, then set the lipstick back down. There were a few other photos hanging up there and she had to consult her calendar to know exactly when their times would come. Her phone dinged. 

She looked at a text from “747”: X sighted and a photo of someone, with some vague details about their identity.

On the other end, Xander received a response from “148”: Acknowledged.


	6. A Public Place

Even if 8 years on the streets hadn’t made Grace suspicious, the couple of minutes that Simon spent opening up about his habit of watching someone did. Not so much that she discarded him as a potential friendly, but enough to request that when they hung out, it had to be in a public place. It was just her luck! Simon told her he knew the PERFECT place. “There’s tea and coffee, food and a cozy little atmosphere. Everything is very nice and I know the owner,” he told her. 

“Oooh, sounds sweet. Tell me where it is…”

“Le Bistro Parfait,” he said. 

She repeated it, with an even better pronunciation than he had into her maps and told him, “See you in… 45 minutes.” (He knew that it was only 30 minutes away from her, but maybe she had something to do and maybe she was trying not to let on her distance from the place. Regardless, he would see her soon, face to face… and it would be PERFECT, no matter what happened, because he’d be able to finally spend time with her socially, and because that was absolutely his mom’s place of business.

Grace felt a little bit caught off guard to learn that. “I’m not really a Mom person… I wish that you would have warned me that a mother might be involved…” 

“No, no… She’s not. She’ll leave us our privacy and just… make sure everything’s perfect.”

“I’m not mentally prepared for a mother on a first date, Simon.”

“THIS IS A DATE??” He asked, too loudly and too excitedly. “Sorry. I just… I thought that we were simply… hanging out. I’m sorry if this seems like too much. We can go somewhere else, if you want?”

“No, we’re here already. Besides, it smells really good,” she said, grabbing a menu and going to a booth, positioned with her back to the wall. Simon followed and sat across from her. He knew what he was going to order. “And what does your dad do?” Grace asked, not looking up from the menu. She supposed that he might work or be involved here, but Simon kept saying “My mom,” so that made it sound like it was just her thing alone.

“Live his life, getting my birthday mixed up with all of his other abandoned kids,” Simon said, looking out of the window.

“Oh. Sorry I didn't mean to stir up anything,” she looked up at him to say that.

“It's fine I don't talk about it enough for it to be… known information…”

“Apple falls far from the Laurent tree, I'm guessing?” Hoping. Because one thing she wasn’t going to do was get attached to somebody who was a rolling stone..

“No no no no no… that's not his name.. that's mom's name.” Grace felt like that was the wrong takeaway from her question, but. “The only thing I've taken from that man is the penchant for being terrible at making connections with normal people.”

“I think we're connecting just fine.” There was no emotion in her statement, and she shut the menu right when she said it. He couldn’t tell if she was offended? Joking? Just being honest and didn’t have emotional responses? He simply decided to take it at face value.

“Do… you also think that you count as normal?”

She smirked. Of course she didn’t, but what did HE know? “I think that you should think I count as normal.”

“Eh. If you were, I don't think you'd like me.”

“And what makes you think that I like you? How do you know I wasn't just bored or lonely?”

A blond, short woman with pale blue eyes and a familiar smile approached the table with coffees and Grace froze. She didn’t want to be introduced or anything weird or even just uncomfortable. But, the woman asked, “Do you know what you’ll want this afternoon? I already know this stickler’s order.” 

Grace ordered, in her finest French and bowed her head, cordially. The woman looked impressed and also confused, but simply strummed Simon’s cheek and said, “Right away.” 

Simon pulled from her hand and turned bright red. Grace giggled at this and he turned redder. “You’re doing just what she wants by being entertained,” he said.

“Then everybody’s happy! Now… what makes you think I like you?” She blew on her coffee, somewhat flirtatiously… Simon didn’t know that coffee blowing could look so alluring. He almost stumbled over his words.

“Well… you don't use your customer service voice and smile with me. There's a different smile and voice you have when we're together, unlike what you use at work.” 

“What if I have another voice and smile that I use outside of my customer service and they have nothing to do with liking people?”

“Then… that still sounds abnormal to me… but, that's one of the things I like about you. And so we're clear… I like you.” He turned the reddest shade she had ever seen for a person when he admitted that. She admired the gumption.

“Ha! Just you wait… you think you know it all.”

“Not it all… just… enough to consider myself knowledgeable.”

“Not on me, though,” she told him.

“Lucky for me, I’m willing to learn.”

.

Grace made a deal with herself. For every Date Night that she scheduled with 747 and the old gang, she would go on a nice date with Simon. They were in that awkward "getting to know you" phase and she was definitely in the realm of "getting to like you, getting to hope you like me."

One night, she and Xander were waterboarding somebody who practically drowned 298. The next, she was having a waterside picnic where Simon wrote and she read (something else), just… for the sake of being around each other. Talking could make both a little anxious at times and they both liked this. It was nice to be in somebody's presence and not have to perform, for Grace. Simon was just grateful that she wanted him around… and the waterfront was serene. Being with somebody and at peace wasn't something neither did with ease. The water brought that ease upon them. 

Another night, she and Xan might be breaking the limbs of a former enforcer who broke an arm or a leg to keep someone "in their place," and the next, she'd break the set of balls while trying to learn how to play pool. Simon is surprisingly good at this game! She's very impressed… he's not as great at teaching her, even though she's a quick learner, but she vows that eventually, she'll be better than he is and show him up. 

Grace spent a lot of time exacting sworn vengeance on really bad people, then turning around and trying to feel better about that by doing something really nice with a good person… because Simon was a good person, right? 

He was sweet, smart, and somewhat attractive. That counted as a catch, she figured. 

Grace never had a type before. Sure, she had thought about getting into the dating world sooner, but she hardly knew what she would be searching for. "Not a monster" was the height of her requirements, and as far as sexuality was concerned… she wasn't sure. 

All that she knew was that the thought of someone touching her in that way made her squeamish and nervous… but that was likely due to the fact that she had very bad muscle memory attached to the wrong type of touch and it unfortunately dated back to before she even realized what sexuality was. She even felt triggered at times when Simon casually came a little too close. That stunned look he would have as he rushed away, apologetically always snapped her back to reality… "Not a monster" also meant someone who feels bad when you mistake them for one… and that made HER feel bad. 

She would take her rage out on Date Night. Be it brass knuckles or nail bats, someone was going to suffer for the walls she didn't know how to lower for Simon. Someone who deserved it.

Then, Simon could at least reap the benefits of her blowing off that steam. Speaking of steam… she definitely splashed the dude that took Lucy's eye with scalding water, and immediately asked, while he was screaming in agony… "Is inviting somebody over for tea a good date?"

"What? At your home?" Lucy asked, toying with the butterfly knife that she had stabbed him in the eye with, flipping it open and shut.

"Yeah. I can order something from a bakery, set up some flowers from the shop.. and it might give us a chance to talk about stuff."

"Does he like tea?" Lucy wondered. 

Grace made an 'I don't know' sound and shrugged her shoulders.

"There's a tea house near the flower shop. Just invite him there. Why would you want a strange dude in your home?" 152 wondered. 

"We've been dating for over a month now. When do normal people invite people they're dating over for tea?" Grace wondered.

"That's not a thing!" All 3 of tonight's comrades informed her.

Simon never saw when they took the bodies away in the van. But, he had witnessed Grace jump on someone's back and make them inhale something, hit someone in the head to knock them out, cover someone's mouth and inject them with something… there seemed to be varying ways to collect their targets. (Yes, he was still following her a lot when they weren’t together, perhaps even more than he did before). 

He had begun to follow the news about the people that they took, too. Common threads seemed to be that they were all either suspected of something terrible or guilty of something terrible that they either got away with, or it was uncovered when they vanished. Every one of the crimes was related to children.

"That makes so much sense. Grace has a kind heart and a beautiful spirit. She loves children. She's doing the world a favor, honestly…" Simon said to Samantha while looking over his research. 

One thing that he hadn't successfully learned about was that "A" that they tagged the doors with. It reminded him of the Scarlet Letter, so he thought that perhaps it meant something about the predator that they had targeted. But after thesaurus diving into the A's, he hadn't found any words that could tie them all into the same package. Abusers? Aggressors? Atrocious? 

Of those that he had witnessed being taken and those that he found searching for similar cases, there had been people suspected of (or found evidence of) child prostitution, abuse, molestation, endangerment, and even murder! The way that the evidence would come about after their abduction led Simon to believe that Grace and her cohorts were responsible for getting it out there. Goddamn, he loved that woman. 

It was too soon to tell her that, but she was amazing. The fact that she could handle trash like that? And ALSO beat his ass in pool after he only taught her how to play a few weeks ago… "A woman who can do it all." PLUS… her photos of whenever she went to charity events. She always looked exactly like she belonged there. A high society picture of perfection. She was beautiful and brave. He wished that she would trust him. 

Bold of him to think that in the moment where he was technically violating her space… but that was because he loved her and wanted to understand her more… so… that was okay. Besides… she knew he did this - perhaps not to her, but she at least had enough knowledge to presume that he might or might have. She hardly blinked, thank goodness. He didn't know how he might feel being judged by someone who disappeared people regularly. Even if they were bad people. 

He heard his phone make the signature sound that she was sending him something. 

Wondrous Grace (Was how she was saved in his phone. He must NEVER let her see that, but like… he enjoyed it): I heard that normal people don't do this, but since we're not normal, I think we've reached the point in our relationship where I invite you over for tea.

Simon: Normal people don't do it? Or Americans don't?

Grace: Idk. Do you want tea or not, Dude? Because I harvested this stuff myself! 

Simon: I would love to have tea with you Grace.

Grace: Cool. Six pm tomorrow. I'm going to trust you with my address, okay? 213 Granderson Lane #4H.

Simon: Got it. See you then… I miss you.

Grace: Lol. Shut up, Simon.

But, she was smiling that smile that he always made her smile. The one that she felt in the depths of her loins, with tingles and leaps. "I think you love him," Xander teased.

"You can shut up too."

Simon was at home, with a very similar smile. About two weeks shy of two months, and he already had an invite to her home. He wished that she knew that he realized that was huge for her. Oh well… what on Earth does a person wear to tea? 


	7. Passion Project

“What the hell am I reading?” The woman squealed in his ear, “And why is it ALWAYS something bizarre with you?”

“Did my favorite perennial flower get my emails?”

“Simon… you do know that I have both college AND a job to do, right? That not all of us achieve our dreams the first try?”

“I pay you good money for the work that I ask you to do!” Simon complained. “Unlike your day job that both pays you less than your male counterparts and less than you deserve in general.”

“Yeah, well… I live in the real world. Not like there’s some magical train to take me away from society and all it's problems. But, seriously… researching is one thing, but this feels oddly like stalking. First of all… I had to do some very illegal things to get this information - which, yes, I went ahead and did it, because by the time I got to that point I was feeling a little bit insulted by the thought of failing. Secondly… who IS this woman, Simon? How do you even know about her and what are you going to do with this information?”

“I met her in my everyday life and was interested in her, but found a simple background check difficult. I was people watching for a new story, but it’s become more like a passion project, now. But, I feel like you’ve got a lot to tell me about her!” He was teeming with excitement.

“I… found out things, things that I never would have wanted to ever know about anybody and am now honestly considering charging you for the therapy it’s gonna take me to get over this information… Where in your everyday life did you meet this person?”

“Why… what’s… what’s wrong with her?” Simon asked.

“A LOT. But… I don’t know… I guess she’s doing better, if you’re just seeing her out and about, but… I just…” Tulip yelped.

“Tools???” Simon called out.

Deep breathing. Then, she was back. “Sorry. Mikayla’s out, so I’m by myself and EVERYTHING is startling me. I’m gonna send you everything I found and my charges for this information. And Simon… please don’t ever send me anything like this again, and I mean it.”

“I only wanted to find out if she changed her name and why. How difficult could the information have been?”

“Most people don’t just change their names out of boredom, Simon. Also… it isn’t right to look into somebody this way. I’m only giving it to you because I don’t deserve to be the only person who has had to look at this.”

“That bad?” He heard sniffling. “Tools…”

“No, Simon! This is messed up! Don’t ask me for another favor again if you don’t know ANYTHING about the situation!”

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise.” 

She let out a deep breath. “Is your mom going to the retreat or whatever this year?”

“Yeah. She’s super excited about it. She says that she hasn’t seen yours in too long. Is she going?”

“Yeah, she was able to scrape up this year to reserve her spot.”

“Mom’s already pulling out all of her Single Mom Squad shit.”

Tulip groaned. “I’m really glad that they had a support group and stuff, but honestly. Why did it become their entire personality for so long?”

“Because it was their little escape from having smartasses like us at home.” Tulip laughed and Simon reiterated, “Really sorry about whatever you read about Grace.”

“I… Is this somebody that you think that you could care about, Simon?”

“Yeah?”

“Okay. Just… be careful. I don’t see how they’re even still standing, much less how they’re in a position to care for someone else. I don’t know if I’m more afraid that you might get hurt if you get attached or that she might, but… it just looks like it’d be super hard to build with this person. They’ve got… a lot of... history.”

“She’s tried to warn me of that and I ignored her and will most likely ignore you.”

“Well, I did my part, anyway.”

.

  1. Her name was not Grace St. Catherine… Well, it was, because she had it legally changed four years ago. But it had been Grace Monroe when she was born… up until when she was 10.
  2. She was kidnapped when she was 10. Apparently there was a ransom requested, and whenever it was set to happen, the kidnappers took the money and did not return the child. Nobody who knew her before saw her again for 8 years.
  3. When she was 18, she was arrested for assault and when giving her name to arresting officers, said 148, but eventually Grace Monroe. From there, she was discovered to have been missing for 8 years and her parents were contacted.
  4. The Monroes conducted every possible test available to check the well being of their now 18 year old daughter. She was treated for several illnesses, including STDs and a number of mental issues...
  5. She was committed at age 18, and declared a ward of her parents, instead of convicted, and spent the next three years recovering. At age 21, she was allowed to be classified as an adult. She changed her name, and lived with her parents until 2 years ago...
  6. When she began working at the bookstore...



Tulip had even been able to find court documents, police records, and psychiatric files. So… yeah. He owed her big time, even beyond payment for having read even a portion of this stuff. Some of it was simply things Grace had reported to her doctors. Some were things that she had not spoken of, but there was physical evidence enough to grant some ideas. 

Years of damage to her uterus… Bruises and scars on her back, knees, thighs, wrists… A symbol carved into the back of her neck… He clicked on the images given from medical reports and saw the same A that had been spray painted on targets’ doors. He now knew who these people were, and why they deserved whatever Grace and her friends were doing to them. He looked at the photos of the girl before her disappearance vs the teenager in the mugshot. That didn’t even look like HIS Grace. She was the same person. He saw familiar features - her perfect round nose and beautiful full lips, the shape of her face a little more shapely there - probably wasn’t eating as well… but… that was a stranger. Only her eyes looked the same. Passionate but filled with pain. Beautiful and wide enough to get lost in, but dark, cold, and freakishly mysterious. 

He quickly called her and she picked up, “Did I not just see you a few hours ago?” she teased.

“I was just thinking about you… hoping that you’re okay tonight. Are you okay?”

She laughed, “Are you?”

“I just… want you to know… whatever happens, I’ll always be here for you.”

She was quiet for a long time. He wondered what she was doing on the other end of the line. She was looking at a selection of masks and knee pads, but her mind was no longer on the outfit for her Date Night, but the man on the other side of this phone conversation.

“Thanks, Simon… Um… Are… you sick? Is something happening to you? This just really feels out of nowhere and quite frankly, I’m a little worried.”

“There’s nothing to worry about! I’m fine. I just… really care about you, and had to tell you that.” 

Grace could’ve sworn that she saw a chorus of red flags being twirled around before her. Dancers, circling her and performing tricks with them. She was never one for rose colored glasses. She learned a long time ago that those weren’t for her… so these were red flags. She also knew that she often saw red flags where there were white ones. Because she didn’t believe in surrender, only blood for blood. She was angry in general, and usually seeing red. Simon’s red flags were probably no more red than any other poor guy that tried to simply make her smile over the past few years. But then he said, “Grace, I lo…”

“Simon, I really can’t do this right now. I’ve got something I’m in the middle of. So, like… Just… I’ll talk to you another time.” She hung up and snatched a mask that looked like it was crying blood and a pair of purple knee pads. “Not L words, Simon. For fuck’s sake…”

.

Simon had learned so much, then she was just gone. She wasn’t at the bookstore in days and whenever he finally asked her coworker, they said that she had a no call, no show and they hadn’t heard from her since. She didn’t respond to any of his texts. She seemingly deactivated social media (or worse, blocked him), and she wasn’t even staying at home, because he drove by several times for two days, then literally camped outside for another two. If she was inside, she hadn’t answered, and he hoped that she wasn’t just ignoring him pining through the door. He hoped that she just wasn’t there to hear him beg her to please at least tell him what he did wrong.

He went into the flower shop and the guy that he had become super familiar with as “152” online, even though his nametag said “Heath,” asked him what he could help him with. Simon ordered a bouquet and wrote out a card for Grace, apologizing for whatever he did wrong and asking her to come back, He sighed and asked Heath, “Could you make sure that Grace gets this, please?”

“Grace?” the guy repeated, eyeing Simon suspiciously. “I don’t know any Grace, Mister.”

“148, maybe?” 

Now, the guy looked downright ready to fight. “I don’t know what you mean, but you’re making me uncomfortable, so I’m going to have to ask you to leave, now.” He even tried to refund him for the flowers.

“No, no… Please, just… tell her that I’ll be waiting, if she ever feels better…” He left and Heath followed him out of the door, watched him get into his car and drive off before he went back in to call Grace, panicked about that visit.

“Who the hell is this person and how does he know where I work?” Heath asked. 

“Let me guess, a little taller than me, skinny, blond with gray eyes and something on his head trying desperately to be a ponytail? That was Simon. I must’ve mentioned the flower shop, or something.” She knew that she never had, but to tell her friend that this person had potentially stalked her and learned about him in the process just seemed like it would cause more harm than taking the blame.

“You must’ve mentioned it? Grace. Either you mentioned it, or you didn’t, and YOU would know. It isn’t like you to be careless about our personal information!”

“I know, I know, but maybe I said that it was my favorite flower shop or something. Heath. You know that if you want, I can get you a job at basically anywhere else that I own.”

“I like flowers!”

“Then, I’ll buy another flower shop you can work at, if he made you feel threatened.” 

“Are you safe? He seems a little attached. He bought a really expensive bouquet and left a card. It’s sealed but I can read it to you.”

“No, I’ll stop by. I’ve got some job hunting to do, but…”

“Why don’t you just work somewhere that you’re familiar with, or somewhere that you own?”

“I don’t know. Because, I’m suddenly hyper aware of how messed up I am again, and I wanna feel like a normal person.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but normal people don’t get to just start over when life seems to be too much. We’ve gotta just continue to live it out, and change only ourselves, and maybe eventually our circumstances. Normal people would have called out of work (if they could even afford to) and came back, whether or not they were better and pushed through being miserable.”

“Are you suggesting that I return to the bookstore and ask for my job back?”

“Yeah. If it’s normal that you’re shooting for. But… I’ve got the feeling that you’re avoiding this creep.”

“I think things are moving way too fast. That’s terrifying.”

“Good news… that’s terrifying for normal people, too. Not everything that we do and feel is because of what the Apex did to us. If your manager likes you and values you, you can probably coax them into forgiving you for vanishing, with a good sob story.”

“Gonna go with dead homie,” she said. “Meds, etc. The whole works. If that doesn’t work, guess I’ll buy the bookstore. I really don’t feel like looking for another job, anyway… And I guess I can’t avoid him forever.”

.

She was back at work the next week. She noticed Simon sitting in the coffee shop whenever she came in. She skipped going for her old routine, to clock back in and get to work. She had to take down the Read Across America stuff and make sure to have all the Easter and Earth Day stuff situated… When was Easter this year? She checked her calendar as she grabbed her legal pad to start planning displays whenever she almost ran into Simon. He’d come over when he saw her return to the floor. She was startled. Then annoyed. “Simon. Please…”

“What did I do?”

“You’re… getting a little bit too… familiar. You didn’t do anything, I just don’t know how to handle having somebody else in my space this much. I just… need some space.”

He frowned and nodded his head, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Okay. You’re the boss.” She wanted to say something… explain why she was like this… why she could only trust her friends, who were more like her immediate family than her parents… even that she desperately wanted Simon to be in her space and to wait for her to be comfortable with having him there…

But, she couldn’t find any of those words. Even if she had, what if she were wrong? What if Simon catching feelings would be the worst thing to ever happen to her, or to HIM, for that matter. She watched him go, and hoped that after she had some time to chill out a little bit, she might be able to contact him again, and get another chance. So, she watched him leave the bookstore and get into his car. He peeled off, and she didn’t know if that meant he was angry or if there was a fluke with the car. She just hoped that he didn’t just show up at her friend’s job or anything else like that. Or something worse. The last thing he wanted while sad was to get on her friends’ bad side. The last thing she wanted was for him to learn that the hard way.

Simon overthrew every piece of furniture in his home. Samantha rushed into her room and hid, terrified of the noise. He cried, shook, paced…. How could he show her that he was on her side? Why did she want space?? Was she afraid of him??? DID SHE HATE HIM???? He flopped onto the floor, holding his head and shivering with tears, trying to catch his breath. 

He needed some place else to handle dealing with her, he realized as he glanced around his demolished home. A storage unit, maybe… He collected all of his stuff pertaining to her and put it all together. He stuffed it into one of his bags and put it into his trunk. He could clean up his house whenever he stored things away safely. He needed a big storage unit. He had a feeling that he was going to be collecting more while giving her some “space.”

This was how he might cope. He turned on the light in the new storage space and set down a few boxes. He hadn’t been back into the bookstore. There was no need. He wasn’t writing right now, anyway. He had more important things to do. He’d printed out everything Tulip had researched for him and made plans to visit places he highlighted from all of the files. He got some photos professionally printed up - some poster size, some not as big, and some he simply just had various photo sizes. He just thought they would make nice decor for his new space. Grace had deactivated, but he still had just about every photo of her saved to his phone or computer, and they had taken a few as well…

He also… was starting to take them of her whenever he watched her… He just really missed her. It was only a couple of months in her presence, but that was longer than he had been interested in another person in a while, and he had never been this interested in anyone before. Any time he ever thought that he might be going too far, he reminded himself that she had both done and been through much worse than anything that he was up to at the moment, and that became his truth up until the very last time that he ever had to tell himself anything. 

That was May. By May… he didn’t think. It was simply part of his lifestyle. Following, watching, studying, photographing, sometimes recording. But, she still hadn’t reached out to him, and he wasn’t sure if she wanted him to reach out to her. He tried to test it, by leaving her a bouquet of those red poppies that he’d seen her and her friends put on their friend’s grave. He watched, recording her reaction whenever she got home and saw them on her doorstop. She looked around, startled, kneeled to check the card. “Missing you. - S” She looked… relieved. He wasn’t sure who she thought they were from, but she grabbed them, went inside, and moments later, came out with an overnight bag and her turtle. She didn’t come home for days.

Next, he texted and said, “Hey. Sent you flowers. My mom asked about you. Hope you’re okay.” He watched her check the text before she went into the train station, but she didn’t reply. So… she still wasn’t ready, but he was letting her know that he was still waiting. By that time, nothing felt unreasonable to him. He was simply waiting for her to realize that she’d had enough space. He was curious about where she went to when she’d leave for days. The next time he scared her into not staying home alone, he’d follow. It was all that he could do at the moment.


	8. Things Went Wrong

Things. Went. Wrong.

Well, technically speaking, things went wrong a long time ago, but she had finally made things right, for some of her kids, for herself some nights. But, not tonight. Tonight was all white hot tears and bloodstains. 

Mistakes. Were. Made. 

Why did she have to be so arrogant? Why did she have to let the former Apex stewards know that it was them? She wanted them scared. She wanted them paranoid. She wanted them to take their prey turned predators seriously. 

Not. Like. This.

.

_A white stretch limousine with gold decorum. Interior like a red carpet. A man with a nice smile and a big flashy ring on his pinky finger. Shoes that she knew were expensive, even though she had never seen them before. A woman on either side of him, dressed in all black, both of them, with white masks with blue flames on the sides of the eyes. They were scary, but the man held open his hand and offered her a piece of candy. She went to sleep shortly after she ate it._

Not. Like. This...

All Grace could see was blood, everywhere. She heard the voice, “Don’t touch him!” in her mind. Was she just supposed to leave him like that? She was pulled out of the house. She saw the pink hair flowing in front of her. Xander, running. She had to run!! Survival kicked in and gunshots continued. She jumped into the van, and it was fired upon. They got away... but so did the X. The X would live, but... “Do you think he’s dead?” she asked, it was so low she could have been talking to herself.

“I know he is,” Xander said. He burned rubber, angrily pushing on the pedal and punched the steering wheel several times, cursing.

Not like this...

.

_A warehouse. There were children everywhere. They looked pretty intimidating. The ones coming in where she was coming in were different though. They looked just as scared as she felt. She looked around for the nice man with the fancy ring and expensive shoes. He was nowhere to be found. Only the women with the creepy masks. She dared to touch one of them and they looked at her with blue eyes, shadowed by black paint beneath the mask. “Where am I?” Grace wondered. The woman didn’t answer. Grace tried asking in other languages. Maybe the woman didn’t understand her… She paused and stared at Grace, then took her by the hand and led her elsewhere._

_She had no idea that she was expensive. That she could earn a ransom. A ransom that could help someone else to get away from this warehouse. Unfortunately, had she actually been allowed to go home, someone else wouldn’t have gotten away with the money she earned faking a return. So, a steward finessed her flight away and returned the girl right where she was going to be for a long time. “The best that I can do for you is to advise you to tell them what you can do. You speak 4 languages.”_

_“7.”_

_“Even better. They might see you as a better asset. You’re very pretty, but with 7 languages, you won’t just be a body.” She took off the mask and handed it to Grace. Underneath, as Grace presumed, black face paint, still shielding who she was. She left her in that room, running away with a large bag of money that Grace didn’t know was that until years later whenever she heard the story of how they tried to get her back._

_But, the steward was right. 7 Languages made her valuable. She could spy, especially if she kept up with knowing them. They got her some books and stuff, to keep her brushed up. She would be sent to perform a dance, maybe other favors, and overhear things that a little girl might not necessarily know what it means, but could easily repeat, as children did things like that._

_The steward that found her tied up with a mask in her hand was ready to kill her. He had seen her in the news and she was far too famous of a lost child. He would cut his losses and get rid of her. “I can speak 7 languages,” she told him, then repeated it in Mandarin, Spanish, French, Arabic, Hindi and Bengali. “And I’ve been learning more of them,” she repeated in less fluent, a bit stammering and unsure if the words were exact in Italian, Russian, Japanese, and Portuguese. “My father is a physician whose worked all over the world and a foreign ambassador, currently. My mother…”_

_“You can shut up. I know who you were. Can’t believe they’d bring somebody like you in here. You’re gonna be nothing but trouble for us whenever the police start looking, or worse, somebody competent.”_

_“The lady with the mask said to tell you I’m a better asset than just a body.”_

_“Yeah…” he untied her and brought her to the bunks. “I found 148,” she heard him say. It was the first time she heard it and she didn’t realize that was supposed to be her._

_They put a number stamp in her hand, pulled her hair up into a ponytail and got her changed into a pair of pajamas that looked like little scrubs. He showed her a bunk bed with no covers and no pillow and she climbed in, tired from days of being tied up and moved around. She fell to sleep to the sound of 152 crying all night. He was a few years younger and scared shitless._

_She watched out for stewards, then went over to his bed and rubbed his belly. Her nanny did that sometimes when she wasn’t feeling well. It was the quietest and least conspicuous thing that she could think to do. The boy looked at her for the first time with big brown eyes, full of tears, but he’d stopped crying and she went back to bed. Of course, he started again, but eventually, he looked over at her, sleeping and he didn’t want to wake up the nice girl, so he tried to be a big boy._

_The next day, they were all woken up, taken to a room where they were given jobs. Grace didn’t know how to do anything with her hands, so 152 was tasked with making sure she learned things. He was younger, but he seemed to be good with his hands, at least. She was a quick learner, so watching him do things helped her to learn to do them, but he still always said what he was doing. Matching the task to the action for her visually and by name._

_She would get called away sometimes, to go be nice to someone - maybe a Russian man, maybe a Cuban man… someone who might say things around her, unaware that she could understand. Every time she came back and told her steward everything that she could remember hearing, he’d be disappointed. It rarely yielded useful results… In a way, she was still just a body, in that her knowledge never seemed to help… and whenever she was dismissed back to the bunks, she would be sad and crying. She didn’t like having to be nice to those men, especially if it never helped her steward. 152 would always pick her a flower. It would be waiting in her bunk after those missions. He didn’t know what they made her do, but he knew that sometimes kids didn’t come back from going to be nice to a friend of the warehouse._

_“One day, I’ll look over, and you wouldn’t have come back. The flower will just wither there, and I’ll have to try to convince myself that you escaped. But, there is no escape, is there?”  
_

_Grace sniffled, wiped her eyes and asked, “What’s your name?”_

_“152. You know that.”_

_“My name is Grace,” she said. “What’s yours?”_

_He frowned. “You’re not supposed to do that.”_

_“You’re not supposed to grow flowers on the side of the warehouse, but I’ve seen you sneak away to water them.” He gasped. “One of my functions is to pay attention to everything and report. I never tell on you, though. You try to help me out. I think… you’re a friend here. So, what’s your name? And it isn’t 152, because people don’t name their children stuff like that. That’s your asset label.”_

_“Heath. That’s what my parents named me. But, they’re dead, of course.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“Why? All of our parents are dead.”_

_“Not mine.”_

_“Then… why are you here?”_

_“I left, and I haven’t been able to escape… but there is an escape, Heath. There has to be. Before I came here, I lived in a very big mansion. I travelled and slept in fancy places with blankets and pillows and warm milk and honey… It’s still out there, or something else is, and we’re gonna get there, Heath. If I make it out, I’m gonna get you out too. If you make it out… just… be sure to leave me a flower.”_

_“Why not get you out too?”_

_“I don’t know if I’d be able to escape… without thinking about them…” They looked at some of the smaller kids. 214, 227… they were practically babies, some of them. “How old are you?”_

_“Six.”  
_

_“I’m ten. 214 is 2, 227 is 3... I can’t leave them behind, but you wouldn’t be able to take them with you. So, remember. Save yourself. If you can, save yourself.”  
_

_“That feels wrong.”  
_

_“Everything is wrong. We aren’t meant to be here...”  
_

_._

The van pulled into the shipping yard and Grace leapt out of it to open her storage so that they could put the van inside, but Jalicia jumped out and wondered, “What happened to Heath? Why did we leave him??”

“Heath’s gone.” Xander said and drove the van into the space. 

“Gone? What do you mean gone?” She wondered.

“DID YOU NOT HEAR THE FUCKING GUNFIRE? IS THAT WHY YOU DIDN’T START THE GODDAMN VAN?” He yelled at her as he got out of the van.

“XAN!” Grace called. Xander kicked the door shut and repeatedly kicked it in, finally starting to cry. 

Jalicia shook her head, “No. He had to have gotten out of there and just went another way. He’ll regroup with us.” her lip was trembling. “He’s okay. He’s gotta be okay...”

“He’s dead, J.” He pointed to blood and something textured, some flesh on his neck and the side of his face, “This came from his head.” She backed away, losing her balance, but Grace caught her and she leaned on her to cry on her shoulder. Xander ran a hand through his hair and he put a hand on Jalicia’s back. “I’m gonna avenge him...”

“Avenge him? THAT’S why he’s dead in the first place! The two of you and your constant need for vengeance! Heath was a good person. A sweet guy who loved flowers and puppies!” She whimpered, “And me...” Xander reached for her, but she swatted his hand away. 

“J, we have to form our alibi. Especially you. You’ll be the first stop that the police make once they identify him..” She stormed off towards her car and peeled off. “She’s going to jeopardize this entire operation!”

“Xan... We lost Heath tonight. Has that not set in?”

“That’s EXACTLY why we can’t just give up. We can’t have lost Heath for nothing!” She closed the storage and she and Xander left in complete silence, save for a few sniffles and soft sobs. Grace didn’t trust Xander to be by himself, though she wouldn’t say as much. They got cleaned up, she got him into bed, and she put their clothes away to be buried. Xander fell asleep as she covered her Date Night wall with the canvas and called Simon. 

“Hello?” he answered, groggily. 

“Hey... are you busy?”

“I was asleep..”

“Sorry-”

“But I’m awake now! What do you need?”

“Do... you want to come over for tea?”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d love to.”

“Xan’s here. He’s crashing in my room. But, the couch pulls out... it’s kinda late...”

“Yeah. Okay..”

She went to put the disposable items into her trunk and not too long after, Simon was there. She opened the door and hugged herself. “Hey. Thanks for coming over. I know that I haven’t been that available lately.”

“It’s okay.” He came inside and they had tea and talked about how his urban writing project was going, how she had been lately and such. At some point, Xander came into the room, paused and stared at Simon. 

“Hey. You fell asleep kinda early, so Simon and I have been having tea for a while.” Grace batted her eyes innocently at Xander and Simon wondered if that had the same effect on the younger guy as it did on him. He grabbed a mug, poured some tea, sat at the table and got his vape. “Simon, would you say that you’ve been here maybe since around.. 8 or so?”

“I definitely left my place around Midnight,’ Simon said, casually. Xander narrowed his eyes at him. Simon smirked and turned to Grace, “But, I suppose I _could_ say that I’ve been here since 8. Who would be asking?”

“Cops, maybe. But... we didn’t do anything wrong. There was just a misunderstanding...” Grace said, sweetly. 

“I wish we would have talked about this first,” Xander said.

Simon placed a hand on Grace’s and both she and Xander froze, staring at the small gesture. He hardly noticed as he reassured her, “We’re friends. If you need me, it doesn’t matter what for.”

She withdrew her hand and used both to collect her tea mug. Xander’s eyes were fixed on Simon. Not fondly. Something wasn’t right about him, Xander didn’t know what, but he didn’t like it and he’d already lost one of his loved ones tonight... and now he couldn’t even properly mourn, with this freaky weirdo here. Simon gathered his mug too and smiled at Xander. Xander didn’t return the gesture.

.

_A lot of the youngest ones got sold off quick. Kids 214’s age - a toddler… he didn’t stand to be an asset except for being sold to someone. But, his face was plastered all over the news. He had to be hidden for a while, if not killed. Grace collected the toddler every day and changed his cloth diapers. She didn’t know how to teach potty training, but tried her best. He was like her. They were too notable by media to ever be able to go that far from the warehouse. So, she was raising him, she guessed. More and more kids came in over the next couple of years. At 4, 214 was one of the youngest, as he had been the last little that had been brought to the warehouse, because of the trouble it caused._ _By that time, she had a pretty solid group of friends, which were mostly younger kids that looked up to her, but when she was 12 was when she met 747._

_747 was dysfunctional from the start. He was a runaway at 9 (not that much younger than when she had runaway and not that much older than Heath was currently), but he was running from something much darker. Someone brought him there in exchange for a little cash, and he hadn’t been much help at all. In fact… he scared some of the other kids._

_He played with knives that nobody ever seemed to find whenever they went to check him and killed small animals that wondered in. Plus, he bucked against the stewards. After an exceptional beating, he spent a couple of days in his bunk, with the other kids trying to cover for him. Heath brought him flowers. He slapped Heath in the face with them and Grace stepped in._

_She grabbed his wrists and pinned him to the bed, “Look. You’re pissed. I get it. I’ve been here 2 years… I think. I don’t even know. But I know this - the stewards don’t give a shit about you. All we’ve got is each other. 152 was trying to be nice to you. You owe him an apology, or I’m going to make you wish you never met us.”_

_She wasn’t sure if he just saw in her eyes that she meant it, or that he knew that the stewards’ violence was simply how they worked, but hers might be impassioned, or if he was simply wooed by the fact that one of the other children actually was bigger and badder than him, but he apologized to Heath and they never had a problem with him again._

_That’s to say that he began to assimilate to warehouse life, mostly listening to advice from Grace and looking after the kids that seemed to matter to her. She was one of the oldest kids in the bunks and definitely the one that the steward called upon the most._

_The day that things changed, she had been dressed up to look nice. Xander and Heath were both staring at her, in lipstick and with her hair pulled up as tightly as the steward could manage. “You might as well say goodbye to her now,” the steward said. “No way that they’ll give her back looking like this…” His eyes traced her form and she shivered. Even with the mask, she could see him looking at her in that way that she didn’t like. Xander took his knife, knocked her down and began to hack at her hair. Grace screamed. Heath tried to separate them, Grace and Xander began fighting like wild animals until the stewards separated them. “What the FUCK did you do???” He grabbed Xander by the throat and began to choke him, “That’s it! That’s the last time I let you ruin business.”_

_“We’re going to be late. Put him in the trunk and we’ll take him out later. We’ve gotta meet up with HER and she doesn’t like to wait.” He shoved Xander to the ground and told Grace, “Hogtie 747 and meet at the car. You and 152 get him into the trunk. I have to cancel your date and I’ll need the reason with me.” Grace nodded once and looked angrily at Xander._

_He dropped his head. “They were going to sell you tonight. Now, they aren’t.”_

_“But now, you’re probably gonna get killed!”_

_“We can’t let them kill him, Grace. He’s our friend. The Apex sticks together.”_

_“The Apex is bullshit that the stewards have told us to try to keep us in line.”_

_“Just loosely tie me and make sure I’ve got my knife,” Xander said. “And don’t worry about me. They may have created the concept of the Apex, but the Apex is made up of us, the children that stick together and look out for each other… friends…” Heath started crying. “Just put me in the damn trunk.”_

_Grace rode with him, in that trunk. She hadn’t secured it and knew that the stewards would presume that she had. They saw her and 152 putting him in and they heard it shut. That was as much as they needed. Whenever the car stopped and they heard the doors shut, Grace opened the trunk and climbed out, stretching her limbs, then helping Xander out. They couldn’t close it, because they didn’t want to make noise. Besides, they wanted to make it look like Xander had gotten away, not been let go._

_They were in the middle of nowhere. Grace looked around, “If you just hide in that field or something, They won’t see you. The plants are too high. They won’t look for you, as they still have to finish business with HER.”_

_“What about you?” He asked, terrified, now that he thought about it. They would know that she let him go if she went back to the car!_

_“I’m going to watch and wait, see if they notice that you’re not there now. If they don’t, I’m gonna latch on to the back of the car and hop off whenever they get back to the warehouse, before they see me.”_

_“That would never work. This isn’t a cartoon, Grace!”_

_“Shhhh! Everything I say makes sense. Go hide.” The nine year old was crying, for the first time since she met him. “Cut that out.” She gave him a hug and repeated, “Hide.” He obeyed._

_She made it back and tried to find a spot to hide without being detected. She also wanted to know about this person that they were meeting with. The woman wore a mask of her own, or more accurately, a helmet. She had a long black coat, boots, and tattooed sleeves… in fact… she appeared to be covered in tattoos, even on her neck. Grace couldn’t see her face, but whenever she removed the helmet, she could see an A with a squiggly line. The woman was British, and Grace felt a certain… connection to her. That just reminded her of her mom._

_“I conduct business. Hundreds of children are currently under your stewardship, affecting said business which I have been conducting. You are supposed to be giving me things that I can use. Payment of some kind for my benevolence in not shooting you in the face and letting your assets dissolve. It has not been worth doing business and I’m afraid that I have to cut things off at the head…” With a few fluid movements, she had pulled out a long blade, swiped at his neck, put it back in her sheath, and began putting her helmet back on by the time his head fell off! The other steward looked terrified as she climbed onto her motorcycle and said, “Clear out of there. You’re finished.” She drove away and Grace watched in awe._

_This is the part that she didn’t talk about much. Not when she replayed that night… not when she thought back to it. She tried to think it happened another way. But, it didn’t. What happened was she realized that she had 747’s knife. She came from her hiding place as the second steward made a phone call and she jumped on his back, swinging the knife with the past couple of years of fury and the past few nights of fear for her date that she was expected to be sold off on. It didn’t work like the blade that woman had. In fact, it was terrible at doing what she was doing. But, she was covered in blood, and she now had a phone and two stewards’ heads._

_“Sev?” she called out. His face appeared in the tall grass and he gasped._

_“What happened?”_

_“Do you know how to drive?”_

_“Not at all.”_

_“Me neither. Well, I guess we’ll have to figure it out…” She used the GPS on the phone that they had used to get to this meeting place in order to get back to the warehouse and get “their kids” out before whatever might be about to take place now that at least 2 stewards were dead._

_They drove back to the warehouse, crashing into a steward as they did and she was pinned beneath the car. Grace got out, removed her mask and covered her nose and mouth. She began to try to struggle, so Xander restrained her arms. Each of them took one of the heads and they marched into the warehouse, threw them onto the floor and Grace yelled out, “Grab whatever you can and get rid of the adults. They can’t stop all of us!”_

_Seeing the heads made some of the children so afraid that they just started running and screaming. Some of them started attacking the adults, as order. Some of them were chasing confused stewards from the building. The armed stewards definitely began using force, but even if some had to die today, the rest would be free. Grace was never gonna take that shit again. She took the mask off of her steward’s head, pick the head up by a handful of his hair and raised it into the sky. “APEX! Check the warehouse for anything that we can use. They’ll send in reinforcements. We’ve gotta move out, but we’ve built this place. We don’t leave here empty handed!”_

_152, 747 and 808 came with phones, laptops, and files from the office. Other kids came with weapons, money, drugs. “Good haul, Apex... Where’s 214?” She couldn’t find him. They had to leave without him, but she vowed to herself to come back after it was less heavy. The police were definitely headed that way. They took a van. 747 was behind the wheel and 152 at the pedals. Some of the kids followed. Some had scattered, to be picked up and maybe taken home, maybe taken away. But when they got out of the van at the field across from where the woman that Grace called The Conductor had killed the steward, they decided to regroup in that spot._

_Xander and Heath had been right next to Grace when she rose as Apex leader. They had carved A’s like the Conductor’s into the backs of their necks, using the same knife that had stabbed off a head. Grace could still remember the adrenaline and the euphoria of looking at her brethren’s smiles and them looking at her, their savior, the one who made them free._

Not. Like. This. 

They had been painting the symbol on the doors whenever they took someone. Tonight’s target had been one of the original Apex stewards who escaped the revolt. He was also one who had stomped on Xander’s belly when he was 9 to get him in line. But, most notably, he had armed guards surveilling his property, because several of his old associates had been bagged and tagged.

They didn’t see them get in, but whenever they saw them moving around and they began firing into the house at the intruders, Heath was hit almost immediately. It happened so fast that Xander was sure it was instant - that he didn’t feel a thing. Grace wanted to try to check on him, to try to take him. He was _gone._ Xander couldn’t lose her too. He grabbed her and dragged her out. Apex sticks together. They had to leave him behind.

Mistakes. Were. Made.

Heath should’ve stayed in the van. She let him get out because “Xan’s my bro. I have to be there for him,” and she was a softie for letting old Apex kids get the justice that satisfied them. She never should have let him. She should have told him no. That only she and Xander infiltrate and incapacitate. That’s how it always was, but she let her emotions give him a shot, and he got shot.

Things. Went. Wrong.


	9. Night Cap

It became a thing. Grace would have a Date Night, then she would have a nightcap with Simon… It wasn’t a REGULAR thing. In fact, for the first few weeks after he gave her and Xander their alibi (and Jalicia, apparently… They all were at Grace’s until after Midnight, whenever Jalicia went home), according to Grace, so also according to the others; Grace and her crew didn’t make any suspicious moves. Watching her was a little monotonous for those weeks. 

* * *

Then, some time in July, Xander came into the bookstore, looking worried and worked up. Simon raised an eyebrow and tried to pretend not to be watching, but he couldn’t help himself. The now platinum blond haired man rushed to Grace and was whispering frantically. Simon tried to read his lips, but Xander was leaning too low and one of the shelves was covering him in part. Grace was just beyond the aisle, so Simon had a clear shot of her. She looked startled first, then alarmed, then, she grabbed Xander by his elbow and led him outside of the store.

There, they were very animated in their gestures, a raised voice word here are there, “Using again” “Operation” “Heath” “Justice” were all that he could pick up on. Grace appeared to be calming him down. She came back inside, talked to her manager, vanished to clock out, then left. Simon got up and left too. This was the first time in a while something seemed to be going on with them. He followed her, hoping that Xander wouldn’t notice. He seemed out of it or something, so hopefully, he wouldn’t. Then, she stopped the car…

It was a rehab center… Simon furrowed his eyebrows. Xander was crying and repeatedly apologizing, with Grace telling him that it was okay. She was here for him. They’d get him the help that he needed again. Heath meant a lot to him. They were like brothers. She wasn’t mad or disappointed, but heartbroken that Xander was so sad… 

“Huh,” Simon said. _Xander has a drug problem?_ He waited quite a while before Grace came back out and he was about to hide, but she spotted him and she was headed his way. _This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up…_

“Simon.” She looked tired, but he couldn’t sense what emotion she was giving off, if any. “Please don’t do this,” she said. “It’s one thing to stop by and leave flowers at my door whenever I’m in the mood for space, but this is different, and you have no right to Xander’s life this way.”

“I’m sorry. I was concerned.”

“About Xander?” She asked, in disbelief.

He scoffed, “No. About you.”

“I can handle myself, Simon. Have been for a very long time. Now, I appreciate that you covered for me, and I’ll make it up to you somehow, but not this way. You don’t get to know my friend’s most private demons…”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to find this out… Is he going to be alright?”

“He always is.”

“So… he’s struggled with this for a while…”

“None of your business, Simon!”

“Sorry!” 

She covered her face with her hand and took a deep breath. “I can bring you home and we can pick up your car later, if you want?” Simon offered.

“It’s Xander’s car,” she said. He knew that, but why upset her further? He was glad that she didn’t tack on some lie like ‘I don’t drive’ or ‘I don’t have a car,’ because she never used it to get to their public dates and where she parked it, there was no way to know that it was hers whenever he was at her apartments. He had to be careful with never letting things slip that she worked to keep secret. It was bad enough that she had caught him today, and he knew that this might make her trust him less in the future. But, he also couldn’t stand the thought of her lying to him. Secrets were one thing... but lies.. he wouldn’t know how to take it.

“You don’t have to, you know?” She looked up from her hand, exasperated and confused. “Handle yourself. I’m here for you. I’ll be whatever you need.”

“That’s too tall of an order for any man,” she said.

“I don’t have to be a man,” Simon told her. She laughed a little, but there was something in her eyes. He couldn’t tell what, but some soft emotion that he was grateful to bring out. He got out of his car and leaned against it. “Do… you need a hug?” He wondered. She furrowed her eyebrows and her walls were instantly back up. “Sometimes, when I’m sad, I cuddle up with Samantha… You could spend some time with her…” Her shoulders relaxed a little. The thought of hugging a stranger… It took her back and she didn’t like it. Hugging a cuddly creature, though… “Maybe she could meet Hazel and they could have a…”

“No. No, thank you. But… I might need another favor… with a schedule…”

He exhaled, “Only if I can come with.”

She shook her head, “Then forget it. I’ll go alone. Like I said, I can handle myself…”

“I didn’t mean to suggest… I just… I want to be included, Grace. You seem to want me one foot in and I don’t know how to do that. I’m trying to be patient. It’s obvious you have some things that you don’t want me to know, but I don’t know how to be half way there for you…”

“If you knew the things that I was trying to keep you away from, you wouldn’t even want to be a little bit there for me.”

“ I think you’re wrong.”

“You like to watch. You’re curious about me. You only stick around because there is something that you don’t know or understand and you can’t stand that. You’re a know-it-all and suddenly this woman comes in and she gives you bits and parts that you don’t know what to do with. An incomplete puzzle with missing pieces… That’s why you tolerate everything that I’ve been doing and not doing the past few months. If you really knew me, you wouldn’t accept me. I’ve tried to fit into the world plenty of times. I know what role to play, but I just… I like that you accept me now. I don’t want it to change…” 

She leaned against his car too, but now he stood up straight and moved just a little too close for her comfort, “My threshold of acceptance of you is like a tower to the heavens.”

Her eyes welled up with tears, even though she was smiling. “Simon…” She threw her arms around him, reflexively, but once his were around her, she trembled, but swallowed down her fears to stay here. She had definitely had much more uncomfortable touching than a nice, albeit strange, guy who was super into her and made her feel warm. “Who… says things like that?” She asked, muffled, with her face pressed into his shirt. “Who ARE you?” She looked up at his face. Theirs were close. His gray eyes stared at her, like he couldn’t answer the question, but desperately wanted to. She was about to pull away. She was about to convince herself that this was a bad idea and that red flags were everywhere.

“I’m whoever you need me to be,” he said. 

She let the tears fall and she pressed her forehead to his. “I require too much, Simon…”

“How would you know? I doubt that you’ve ever let anyone prove themselves…” She leaned back to size him up. She had. She had let others prove themselves… but they had been doing so since they were kids, just like her. 

She didn’t let new people in and right now, whenever Xan was shooting up again, Jalicia was severing ties and the rest of the Apex survivors were waiting on word from her… she just needed somebody else. She needed somebody who WASN’T a part of that, but wanted to be near her. 

“For now, can I just… chill with you after my appointments?”

“Yes.”

And he had become her alibi. Her parents saw photos of them in her social media and presumed she FINALLY was dating someone worth showing off. They didn’t have the highest opinion of him, specifically, but her sharing something with someone other than rescue kids from her old life was important to them.

She didn’t hug him again after that. It was an emotional day and he was simply grateful that she had trusted him in that moment. He’d learned enough about her past to understand perfectly why she wasn’t fond of touching or even with people in her personal space, unannounced. The way that he had learned to ask her if he could do something first. “Can I reach across you to get the honey?” “I need fly swatter from over there, mind if I get it, or can you hand it to me?” Little things, but all things, he made certain not to be in her space without noting that she was okay with it. It made her quickly comfortable with being around him.

To the point that she would wind up in his space, shy, at first, and seeming like she wanted to announce herself, to be as courteous as he had been, but also realizing that she wasn’t as good at saying things and, “I just want to be closer to you,” was DEFINITELY something that she couldn’t say.

But, she did. She would lean onto him whenever it wasn’t even necessary. Touch him whenever she was going to say something, or his favorite - whenever he made her laugh. And one day, in autumn, she said, “You can just do what you need to do. You… don’t have to handle me like that anymore…” She was looking at the ground when she said it and she blushed, as well. 

He just gave her a smirk, along with a blush of his own, said, “Noted,” but continued to play it safe, both out of habit and just in case she wasn’t as ready as she thought for him to be in her personal space. 

.

Without Xander, research was different. Things slowed down. He was usually the one to find and confirm an X. 

Without Heath, delivery was different. He was usually the one to handle getting the information where it needed to be - cases and documents to law enforcement and media outlets, etc. 

Without Jalicia - logistics was different. She usually helped to strategize who would be best with which X, plot plans and most importantly - cleaning up. The three of them were all TOP TIER members of her team. Xander had struggled with an addiction since he was about 14-15… Around the time that Grace was picked up by the police and taken away from their stomping grounds. Every now and then, he had a relapse. This one seemed bad. 

Heath was now buried. Jalicia was in mourning - filled with equal parts grief and anger that Heath had been killed. She still loved her friends and she was definitely too deep in to have turned them over, but she wouldn’t have, even if she hadn’t been, or if she had been that furious… Heath wouldn’t have wanted that. 

They had a questionable relationship, to some. He was a few years older than her and it made for some gray area at certain points - when she was 16 and he was 19… but… their relationship wasn’t like _that._ They had grown up together, shared trauma, been close when they were young. He looked after her whenever Grace wasn’t around and they just never felt that sibling connection that they felt with several of the others. 

Sort of like 747 had been with 808… Grace didn’t necessarily approve of them, but it was going to happen, with or without her blessing, and who was she to keep people who connected from coming together? After everything they had all been through together and individually. She didn’t expect Apex relationships to work out and they tended not to, but J and Heath had been going for about 3 years, and she had known him since she was 3 and he was 6… 16 years of friendship and 3 years of those as more… Grace didn’t bother her at all. If she ever forgave her, she would know where to find her. 

But, that left Grace without a team. 

Sure, she had trusted individuals who were faithful and vengeful. 808 would rush to her upon knowing that 747 was back in rehab and 152 was murdered… 227… grieving… 425, 368, and Lucy had been on a few before… but the work to get to Date Night was the most important and none of them were able to fill in for the others. So, Grace had been slowly doing it all herself, with Simon watching and wanting to help, but not wanting to let her know that he had been intruding. What if she lost her trust in him just when she was starting to give it to him? 

So, for her own good, he began to monitor her operation a little bit more closely. He began to take his searching deeper into her business… into her devices… into her places she ventured… He… set up cameras and spyware. He wasn’t proud of this, but he also was concerned. 

At some point, he knew that excuse wouldn’t work. Like, for instance, if she found out about everything he did to keep tabs on her, Even her gracious acceptance for his weird habit and creepy behavior would falter if she knew how much he knew… how much information he had taken from her without her permission. 

Simon began to try learning how to shoot a gun. He wanted to get a license… He wasn’t sure why. Maybe because Grace’s life seemed so dangerous and he was desperate to try to protect her? Because, truth be told, he wasn’t extremely fond of guns at the time. 

Washington was an open carry state, so he figured he’d learn to shoot and get a gun. Just in case. Turns out… he sort of… liked guns. Once he got used to the idea and the handling, he started looking at different types and styles, studying them in his spare time, either while staked out on Grace’s Date Nights, or whenever she fell asleep after a nightcap. He started to think, Hell… maybe he might even start a gun collection. Maybe he had too much time on his hands. He wasn’t sure how that could be, because for the most part, all of his time was consumed by Grace.


	10. I Was in a Gang Once

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean... issa a lotta pain.

Simon was a pretty inventive liar. It made her second guess some things. “I’m a writer,” he reminded her when she would be impressed with his ability to fabricate alibis (that they never actually used, because Grace had only been on three Date Nights in the past three months). For Simon, that meant trying to have more frequent reasons to be around her. “Samantha misses you.” “Mom wants you to stop by so that she can treat you to lunch.” “It’s Halloween!” She indulged him her time, mostly because she had plenty of it these days. **  
**

Even with the busy work that she threw herself into at the Infinity Foundation, with Xander on the mend and Jalicia on the lamb, Date Nights were going to be slow. She spoke to the children/young adults whose stewards she had yet to catch up with. She still planned to find and deal with any steward who had ever come through the warehouse and harmed one of her friends.

In the meantime, she was once again in the mood to leave the bookstore, because of Simon being a little too… present. The last time that she told him she needed space, he didn’t seem to grasp how crucial it was for him to just leave her alone until she was ready. She knew that if she ever wanted to distance herself from Simon, she would likely need to leave town… That, or Xander would deal with him, and she didn’t believe that Simon required the way Xander dealt with problems. She also didn’t think that Xander needed any additional stress!

Xander wasn’t interested in Simon being involved in their business. Whenever he got out of rehab, Grace had been paying his bills so that he would have HIS home to return to afterwards, on the condition that he wasn’t left alone. It was surprising to her, but Jalicia offered to stay there for a while. She didn’t want to be alone in space that Heath used to fill up so much of, and she believed that if anybody else knew how hard it was without him, it was Xander. So, she moved in as his roommate.

Whenever she wasn’t there, 808 and 1K were available. “This is very unstable,” Xander would say, as he had past relationships with both of them and neither of them were *completely* in his past. He and Alexandria (808) usually hooked back up within days of seeing each other and Sunny… it was complicated. 

Xander would say that “Xandria” was his first love. They were together with no adult supervision through puberty and definitely were the ‘it couple’ of the Apex, back in the day. 

But… Sunny had been around when Xander started to unravel. Sure, he tried to have her close because she reminded him of Grace (and she reminded everyone of Grace at the time, because her entire personality was being Grace’s pupil/clone). 

But, whenever kids were losing faith in Xander as second in command turned leader and the Apex was scattering and 808 had joined another crew. 1K had stayed by his side. “Grace would never leave Xander!” she had been fussing as she tried to help him through his first attempts at quitting/withdrawal. 

“Grace HAS left Xander, Sun. Grace is gone, and try as you might, you just aren’t her,” he’d heard Alexandria say through his trembling and panting. So, Alexandria was his first love, but whenever he thought of Sunny, she felt like his true love... But, leave it to Xander, that wasn’t something he could handle taking care of very much.

It was months before he and Alexandria talked again after she left. He was as happy as a street kid who survived on crime and fought an addiction could be. But, seeing her again, it was an addiction of its own. He’d hurt Sunny. She’d broken things off with him, but stayed for the Apex, which now was so scattered… but one day something amazing happened. 

Grace came back. She looked very different, but they could immediately tell it was Grace. Sunny had been the most happy, filling her in on everything, and whenever Grace saw Xander, she collected him into her arms and said, “I have a place for all of you to live.”

It was at the Infinity Foundation. There were shelters. Xander had flashbacks to the warehouse, even though this place was nice, clean, fresh… you could see both the staff’s faces and they wore name tags with smiles on them. Sunny whispered to Grace about Xander’s battle over the past couple of years, so he was checked into a rehabilitation program. Sunny had shown Grace all of the turfs where Apex kids had scattered to after she left and Xander began falling. 

As many as would come with her did, and the Infinity Foundation was able to help out with so many of their problems. They even formed an Apex Healing group for survivors of the warehouse. Xander settled into a place of his own. Younger kids were given various placements by the state. Some of the kids who weren’t from there had been brought back to their hometowns, some to their parents, some in foster care. Grace made sure that she kept in touch with everyone, just in case they ever needed her to swoop in. 

She wasn’t that capable of taking care of herself, and her parents rarely let her go freely. In a way, she had another steward in her social worker, and another in her nurse. 

After her year long situation from the court case of assault (which initially had been attempted murder) and being declared mentally unfit, she spent half a year in a mental home and another half with a healthcare worker. 

So, when she came back after being missing from the Apex for a year, it was hard for some of the kids to handle. But, those that came with her the first time began coming back for others. Eventually, after maybe a year or so, Grace, Xander, Alexandria, Sunny, Heath, and Jalicia had collected almost all of their living members and gotten them back to the Infinity Foundation. 

Some had not survived the years. Some had not survived Grace’s departure. Grace had nightmares every night in the beginning. She would see herself swinging the bat, hear herself grunting with each swing, hear the maniacal laugh that she let out whenever the police grabbed her and one of them said, “I think she’s dead.” She would remember Hazel. She would remember Todd.

Her brain tied the two of them together, even though she never saw them together. But, whenever she saw them dying, it was always that same shredding heat of immeasurable pain. No deaths had bothered her like theirs had. Maybe that was why whenever she saw Todd’s body fall, she saw Hazel’s... every time...

_Whenever Todd was little, Grace took care of him. Whenever they fled the warehouse, Grace lost track of him. It took her a few months to find him and he was in the “care” of a steward. She thought about freeing him a few times, but Todd was 4. The logistics of taking him quietly, unnoticed long enough to get out and then being able to keep him safe were… shaky at best. So… She… left him._

_He seemed to not even know the difference between where he was - in this abandoned house, and the warehouse. The main difference was that he missed her. She would visit him and bring him food and gifts. She stayed until he finished eating, but every time she came around, gifts would be missing, or he’d have bruises. “Why don’t you just take me with you?” He would wonder, by the time he turned 6._

_14 Year old Grace was rising in popularity on the streets and the Apex had become notorious. Todd was… She cringed every time she thought back to her 14 year old self… Todd was a liability. Jalicia at 5 was already hard to handle, and she often had to leave her with Heath - who was only 8 and not at all capable of having 2 kids in his care... and Todd had never been as independent as Jalicia. He would slow them down and quite possibly get them caught. He just had to hang tight. She wouldn’t leave him here. She’d come back for him and he’d be with them. She just needed more time._

_16 year old Grace tried to take him in, but he was a little bit hardened, a lot less trusting of her. He clearly still loved her, as he would always be happy to see her and would hug her and kiss her and sometimes even rush off with her. But, he had a good situation where he was and he didn’t seem to believe that he would have a better one with Grace. IF ONLY HE HAD TRUSTED HER… Waited just a little bit longer… If only she had been a better guardian, taken him with her in the first place, or at least whenever she came to find out where he was and that he was alright. If only she hadn’t seen him as a liability before._

_By the time he was ready to come with almost 18 year old Grace, his steward was not letting that happen. He found out that Todd was going to try to sneak away to be with Grace, followed him to where they would meet, put him on his knees and shot him in the face right as she arrived. Jalicia and Heath were with her. They didn’t own guns at the time, and after that, Grace never wanted to deal with them. She hated guns. Maybe because she would always think of Todd’s shattered face, the loudness of it as she ran as fast as she could, screaming “NO!” The way that she collected the boy into her arms, wailing while his murderer ran off and got away. He was an adult. He had some money. He was able to pick up and leave without repercussions._

_Todd had a family out there. She saw them whenever they came to identify the body. They said that they didn’t know. That he looked like he might be theirs, but it had been 8 years and they just didn’t know, and she knew that they probably also didn’t want to believe… Grace had tucked his giraffe beanie into his pocket - something she had held on to for those years, afraid that he might lose it. They recognized that. They fell apart._

_She was numb. She was ready to set 808 loose and let her burn that house down… Then, she met Hazel. Hazel was new to that house. She had never seen her before. She was 6 and a half. She was cute and friendly. She had no idea what was in store for her and Grace wasn’t about to let her know. So, she took her, rushed a bunch of the kids out and let 808 do what she loved to do. That motherfucker may have gotten away, but if he ever wanted to come back, his kids wouldn’t be there, neither would that house._

_Taking care of Hazel was sort of a coping mechanism for Grace. She didn’t know it. Nobody really got it, but she fell in love with this child very quickly and spent weeks taking care of her._

_Maybe they all did what she was doing… latched on to this new, cute, innocent kid to try to help and mold because they had let Todd down. “We all failed Todd,” was the most Xander had said in response to her crying about failing him. They didn’t want to fail Hazel too._

_Hazel belonged to an old thug they called Tuba, but the last anybody heard, she had been taken to the pen. Hazel wandered off from Tuba’s Kids afterwards, because she was small and they were mean. Tuba was a lot of things, but word on the street was that she took care of her kids. Without her, that hotheaded demon, Bugle got a little big for her britches. She sent reps to Grace, demanding her sister back. The fact that this monster could call Hazel her sister and then do what she did to her…_

Grace woke up wailing. Simon jumped and paused his video game. “Hazel! Hazel!” She was screaming. Simon placed his hand on her shoulders and she took a swing right for his face. He leaned back enough to miss full impact, but she did clip his chin. Then she hissed and looked at her hand, now fully awake. “I’m… sorry… Are you okay?” She asked, wiping her face and trying to slow her heartbeat. He rubbed his chin and nodded. “I’ll… go,” she whimpered, embarrassed that he had seen her like this. She was only supposed to be taking a nap, as she had gotten beat up pretty badly earlier. Some people don’t go down as easy with tranquilizers...

“Hey…” He caught her wrist gently and pulled her back to sit on the bed. “Do you want to talk about it? You were calling your turtle’s name.”

“She’s um. She’s named after someone. Can I get some water?”

“Of course. I’ll be right back… You’re not gonna leave when I get up, right?”

She smiled bashfully. It would not be the first time she just decided to take off and text Simon on her way halfway down the road. She shrugged her shoulders. It was almost morning, now. He came back with water with easy ice and a couple of orange wedges, which was how she usually had her water, but she couldn’t recall telling him that. She internally groaned, wondering if she had ordered water on any of their dates, but it had been a while since they went out and she had been through a lot lately… She couldn’t remember if he had just been observant or if he had been watching her one day. She didn’t know if she even cared anymore. As long as he didn’t see her on Date Nights. And she knew that he didn’t, because she generally came over afterwards. Tonight’s had been hard.

She had caught up with one of Tuba’s Kids. Not the one that she got arrested over. Word was that she could barely function. Needed to move in with her Granny and be nursed, for the rest of her life. Grace didn’t need to do more damage, but she still felt like that was too good for that bitch. She gulped the water down and chewed on the orange. “Want more?” She shook her head. “Want to talk about Hazel?”

She sighed. “Hazel was… a friend. Sort of. She was more like a little sister. Well… she was…” She tried to think of some type of way to speak in codes about this, but she couldn’t. So, she simply said, “I was in a gang once.” Simon’s face flickered something. It was like excitement, but she wanted to read it as shock, so she did. Honestly, he hadn’t thought she would tell him that. But, she tried to explain, “It wasn’t my fault! I mean… I was targeted and taken in… I wasn’t a bad kid…”

“I wasn’t judging you,” he said softly, and took her glass, to set it aside and hold her hands. 

“We were all homeless. Those of us who found places to crash were either spaces that were within our territory or abandoned places. My friends and I relocated from a warehouse to one of those abandoned trains. We would you know, steal and stuff to survive, sometimes sell things… Hazel was a street kid from another gang, but I took her in and… well… the other gang got mad about it. One of them hunted her down and napped her from us, but whenever we caught up with them, I told her to let Hazel go… and she did. She let go of her… right… righ…” She reached for the glass again but it was empty. She choked out the words, staring into the glass, “Right in front of a train…”Not an abandoned one, but a moving one.”

“Oh my God!” Simon said, genuinely not expecting to hear THAT. Had that been in his research? He felt like he would have remembered something like that!

“I didn’t know what to do. I just stood there, crying like a bitch…”

“Grace… A kid was killed by a train. What could you have done?”

“I’ll tell you what I did next… She thought that she was gonna get away from me. I knew where they stayed. I knew their territory. I didn’t have bad blood with Tuba. We just did our own things, in our own spaces. But, I did go into her space to get that bitch. I dragged her out into the street and I beat that bitch with a bat. I don’t know if the police were passing by or if somebody called and they happened to be nearby. I heard my crew calling my name and telling me to come on, but… I couldn’t! She was still moving! Hazel was gone, but here was this bitch, still moving! So I just kept swinging and when she stopped moving, I kept swinging. I kept swinging until the police pulled me off of her.” She started crying, “Can I have some more water?” He took the glass in one hand and took her hand in another. 

He didn’t believe that she wasn’t going to rush away the moment she had a chance to consider that she had just told him this. So, he walked her into the kitchen with him and sat her at the island. She seemed okay… As okay as somebody could be after something like that…

Whenever she accepted the second glass, she noted, “You didn’t even flinch. I told you that I tried to kill someone, and you just… listened.” There was a suspicious air to her comment. 

“I don’t know how anyone else might react, but I’d like to think that if some danger came to somebody that I love that I would do whatever I could to keep them safe.”

“Yeah… but… I had already failed at that. Nobody was in danger when I went after her.”

“She was,” he said. To which Grace gasped at first, then began cackling with her head thrown back. She nursed her water a little longer and set the glass down. She looked at Simon, reached out slowly towards his face and he leaned closer so she could cup it. When her skin touched his, she pulled him in and kissed him. 

Simon’s arms wrapped around her waist, tenderly at first, a little firmer when she wrapped her legs around him. He collected her and she laid on his shoulder. “I just want to be held,” She whispered, almost desperately.

“I told you… whatever you need.” Maybe, Simon wasn’t “too” present. Maybe, she needed somebody this close.


	11. X Confirmed

Death had never been especially hard for Xander to accept. His mother died in front of him when he was young. He found it scary at first, but then curious. He didn’t know what an overdose was at the time. He’d been told at school that in case of an emergency, call 911, but his mom looked mostly the same way that she usually did. Sometimes, when she put the white stuff in her nose, she did weird things. 

When she began to shake and flop around, to choke and gargle, he called out to her a few times, but then… she went to sleep. Which, in hindsight… usually happened whenever she carried her bottled drink. But, as far as her laying on the floor, eyes fluttering for a while, even the vomit wasn’t that strange for her… Usually she turned the other way… but if she was asleep, that wasn’t an emergency. Besides, he wasn’t supposed to call those people anyway. School rules and house rules were different and house rules mattered to his mom more. He was supposed to go to the neighbor’s and ask them to call his dad.

_ This was no emergency! _

He went to school the next day and she was still there. He set breakfast next to her. Some toast and milk. He came home and she was still there. So was breakfast.  _ Was this an emergency? _ He picked up her nose stuff and tried to give her some. She would probably jump right up. No. She didn’t.  _ Maybe this might be an emergency. _ He headed to the neighbor’s, still had Mom’s nose stuff with him. The neighbor looked scared when she saw it. She tried to take it, but Xander insisted it was for his mom, but she was asleep on the floor and had been since yesterday. 

So, she called his father and walked over to go check. When she did,  _ she _ called 911. Xander’s father had not been around for a while. He would get mad and swing his fists at people… at Xander’s mom… at Xander. So, he didn’t live with them. That day, Xander found out that his mom wasn’t going to wake up from her sleep. “She was a cokehead. It happens,” his dad told him. Xander didn’t know what that meant, but what he figured out from swinging his fists at things when he got angry was that they went to sleep sometimes. Little animals. That meant that nose stuff wasn’t the only way. It also meant that when his dad got mad… it could happen to him. 

By the time he left home and ran into his steward, he had fists swung at him more times than he could even count up to. If he was gonna go to sleep forever, he didn’t want it to be because of his dad.  _ This was an emergency.  _

He never faced death again that up close and personal until his own life was on the line and Grace tried to get him out safely. He was terrified in the field by himself. Where could he go? He had no sense of direction. His dad probably wasn’t looking for him. His mom was asleep forever, and Grace was probably gonna get caught and killed too. He just sat in the field and cried. Insects kept crawling on him. He ignored a lot of them. Maybe he could just stay here forever and nothing would happen. Maybe… he could just lay down and go to sleep and not wake up again.  _ Maybe there were no emergencies. Maybe death was a way to be free from emergencies.. _

Whenever Grace called him, he was still afraid, but happy to hear her voice. Was she coming to leave with him? To stay with him? 

She was covered in blood. He had never seen so much. Not from fights, not from animals, and definitely not on people… Whenever they took the heads, he wondered, “Should we do something with those bodies? In the movies, they would hide them.”

“No. No. No… Wait… Yes…” She thought, “No. I read a crime story not too long ago. If they take fingerprints, you have to be a criminal for them to match them. We never did crimes before.”

_ However, whenever they did start to do crimes, Xander wondered, “Remember that field? Do you know where that was?” _

_ “Near the abandoned train, right?” _

_ “They’ve moved the train, now, but… maybe the field is still there.” _

_ It was still there, but it looked different. It seemed greener than Xander remembered. It would still do. He grabbed a shovel and opened the trunk, sighing whenever Grace began to speak in her soft, but urgent voice. “We have to get a better system. You can’t just hit somebody in the head with a shovel and toss them in your trunk.” _

_ “He was a steward. I confirmed it myself.” _

_ “Well, as confident as I am in an X confirmed steward… We need to be careful.” The man started moving and she gasped and took the shovel to smash it into him to make him stop moving. She blew air from her lips and thought for a moment. “If you ever do this again, I need them researched, receipts created, and confirmation solid. Don’t just fly off the handle.” _

_ “He kidnapped Jalicia with the intent to sell her. She was 3.” _

_ “I know, I know… BUT, what I’m saying is… somebody is gonna be looking for this guy and nobody knows he did that, probably.” _

_ “Who would look for this guy? He’s a loser.” _

_ “A zero.” _ _   
_ _ “Less than zero.” _

_ She gasped, “He’s a null!” She laughed and grabbed the other shovel. “Dude, we also will need to be wearing something else. I love this Blood Orange shirt, and it’s ruined now. I’ll have to burn it or something.” _

_ “Should… should we call Jalicia?” He wondered.  _

_ “And stress her out? No.” _

_ “If I was her, I’d wanna know.” _

_ She thought for a moment and looked around. Where this place was, she didn’t expect much traffic, so they probably were safe to move forward and still let their friend know about this. “Check with Heath. He’ll know whether or not that’s best.” _

_. _

_ Heath and Jalicia met them out there and Jalicia looked at the man, “Yo… what the fuck, Xan? I’ve never seen this man before in my life, Bro. Did you kill him? Can we just drop him at the ER and dash?” _

_ Xander shook his head at her and raised up the man’s sleeve to show a tattoo of a scorpion and a scar. “This is where you bit him.” They recognized the tattoo, and that did look like a bite mark. “I asked him what happened there and he said a kid bit him a long time ago. No… He said, “my kid bit me” a long time ago…” Xander was fuming again.  _

_ “I’m sold,” Heath said, his own jaw clenching as he grew protective over his girlfriend. “Who… owns this land? Because if they’re gonna farm it or something, they’ll find him.” _

_ “But, if we buy it and it gets found some other way, then it points to us,” Grace said. “I’ll find out tomorrow. For now, we gotta bury this null.” _

_ “The what?” Heath wondered. _

_ “Null. Less than zero. I read it in a book once...”  _

She was always reading. She could read in multiple languages, and multiple avenues. She could read body language, social cues, people…  _ why the fuck couldn’t she see how not okay Simon was?  _

As he recorded the dude’s address, he thought about the stern talking-to that Grace had given him about that first X on the way to the Field of Nulls. If they were going to be hunting predators and burying them, they needed to look into them, verify that they were either at the warehouse or into the crime scene within that time frame, and get as much information and dirt on them for it to be undeniable. Grace would look at the information to determine and if she wasn’t sure they were guilty, if there was a single chance that an X was not confirmable; she made a circle around them and held onto their information. There was likely a reason that they came up in shady business.

Sometimes, the proof came around. A few times, she just couldn’t stomach a mistake. They had been taken away from homes and families for years. She didn’t want to do that to someone else if she couldn’t say for sure they were responsible. He knew that he certainly couldn’t get an X put on Simon without proof, _ if _ even then. 

Grace had gotten REAL cozy with her new little lap dog, and Xander did not like that. He didn’t like her bringing him into the fold, even if he was still in the dark. It was sloppy! They hadn’t vetted this guy! In fact, they didn’t  _ let  _ people in! Simon was the first outsider to have crossed over… since Hazel! Xander looked at Sunny, asleep in his bed, curled up with a pink narwhal stuffie, with an eye mask over her face and a bonnet on her head as he scribbled a note and slipped out of his apartment.

There was no doubt in his mind - the man was dangerous. He’d most likely escalate if openly challenged. Xander  _ would  _ just put him in the field… but he doesn’t lie to or keep secrets from Grace; and putting Simon in the field would make her very upset. Xander wasn’t quite prepared to risk that type of upset from her with nothing backing his suspicions. But, you couldn’t convince him that Simon wasn’t a serial killer!!! 

Or… someone unsafe for them all, but mostly for Grace.

Whether it was the fact that it takes one to know one, just Simon being so strange in comparison to other people Xander had observed, or him just feeling threatened that Grace had a new person around… That she got close to him when Xander wasn’t there. That if he hadn’t slipped up again, this might not even still be a problem. That she was in danger and it might be HIS fault! 

Initially, Xander told her to give Simon a chance, but he felt the dude proved that he couldn’t be trusted with boundaries and space… yet… there he was… in her life even  _ deeper.  _ Xander needed to confirm for himself and for Grace that Simon was simply a harmless creep and not a dangerous one. 

_ Potential X: First - Observe the potential X in its natural habitat. How it walks and talks. Does it have friends and family at home or live alone? How often is it there and what does it do in it's free time? _

“Potential X appears to live alone, has one pet as indicated on social media bios, and from a quick overview through the window - minimal security in place beyond a locked door. Background check came up clean, so if it is a danger, it is a crafty danger, because it hasn’t been caught or suspected of anything yet. It leaves early in the morning and goes… to the bookshop. Right. Everyday.” 

Xander went across the street and ordered, then opened his laptop and watched the bookstore. He saw whenever Grace came in to work, Simon had rushed to open the door for her and… she…  _ Kissed him??? On the cheek, but… she doesn’t DO that. _ This might be harder than Xander thought. 

“Grace is very attached to X. Does she love him? It.” The X. Xander didn’t like to humanize the potential X. Grace would do that later, and highly likely go above and beyond for this one. 

Xander ordered some lunch for Grace and went across the street with her known order. She came from clocking out and almost ran into him. “Whoa! Xan!” She cheered and tackled him into a hug. “Did you spring up to see me???” 

“Yeah, I got your stupid lunch from the deli.”

She was eyeing him suspiciously. He knew why. He’d left this morning and Sunny most likely hit her up as soon as she found his note. He had technically been ‘missing’ that entire time, because none of his babysitters had eyes on him. But, she was soon comforted by the fact that she knew him well enough to know when something wasn’t right. Something wasn’t, but she knew it wasn’t drugs. “That’s super awesome, but I was actually gonna head out of work early and go to Le Bistro Parfait!”

“Le what?”

“Simon’s mom’s place. I told you about it.”

“Right. Where is he?”

“Waiting,” she said with a huge smile.

“Like a good little lap dog.”

Grace booped his nose, “Don’t be jealous. You’ve got BOTH of your exes wrapped around your little finger.”

“Debatable. Also irrelevant.” He paused and looked at her solemnly. “ _ They’re _ Apex.”

“He’s good to me, Xander. He understands that I have all this stuff going on and he still likes to be around.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Because, I’m charming and beautiful,” she said through her teeth.

“Right, but you’re also aloof, inconsiderate, self-absorbed, noncommittal, highly, HIGHLY traumatized, problematic, pretentious…”

“OH MY GOD, XANDER!” She said. Those things were true and were often reasons that she didn’t have successful real dates and never had a boyfriend, but with him just saying them like that… Shit was a little hurtful. Especially considering that Simon never said anything bad about her, ever. Fortunately, he showed up right when she was ready to fucking lose it on Xander.

“Xander,” Simon said and held his hand out to shake, an unreadable expression and wide fake smile on his face.

“Dude, you do this every time. I’m not shaking your hand, for all I know, you just rubbed one out so that you don’t get a hard on for Grace in front of your mom.” Xander said it very casually, but they all knew that he was 100% serious and he even looked disgusted for emphasis.

“Oh,” Simon said, pulling his hand back. “I absolutely didn’t do that, but I won’t offer you my hand again, Xander.” His eyes glinted as he lowered his forehead just a little bit…

_ The X is trying to intimidate me! _ Xander stepped forward and Grace stepped in front of him to give him a silent look to back down and took the lunch, “I will put this in the break room and have it for tomorrow. You wanna come to Le Bistro?” Her voice didn’t indicate anything, but Xander knew that face and he was on thin ice if he didn’t keep his wits about him with Simon. Simon  _ obviously  _ was much better at being fake than he was. Grace didn’t even acknowledge the way he’d just  _ challenged  _ him.

“Yep.” He stared Simon down as she vanished to the break room, still giving him her warning look. Xander rolled his eyes and asked, “How long has your mom had her place?”

“Oh… Since I was 10 or so. I definitely lost the spelling bee in 5th grade and she was there by then, because I’d practice over and over in a booth.”

“You did spelling bees?” Xander asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I was a spelling bee champion,” Simon bragged.

“When you were 10.”

“No… I lost _ that  _ year, but it made me work harder for the next time. So… 11.”

Xander nodded, “When I was 11, I was sucking strange dick so somebody else could get paid, and smoking pot so I wouldn’t worry so much about sucking strange dick.”

“Oh… I’m… sorry… I’m presuming that no one would ever joke about something like that… So… Just… sorry.”

“Hey, it taught me a life skill that I’d need for money later sometimes,” Xander shrugged his shoulders and winked at him.

“How uh… How did you and Grace meet?” Simon asked, uncomfortably changing the subject.

“She hasn’t told you?” Simon shook his head.  _ Grace has not opened up to the X about our troubled past. This is a sign that she is not as far into his deceit as I feared.  _ “Then, I guess she has her reasons.”

“Okay. Well, we’ve covered ‘strange dick’ now… what’s the next conversation topic in Xander’s world?” Grace reappeared and Simon exhaled, “Oh thank God.” She laughed and locked arms with both of them. They gave each other fake casual looks, two sets of eyes studied every single detail in the other’s face and both noticed that fact, and that fact only. But, while Simon smirked and faced forward, Xander frowned, and she marched ahead, guiding them both. 

She and Xander both rode with Simon. Xander was studying the backseat and the lock. If he had to sneak in here to grab Simon, he wanted to see if he could estimate success. “Your music sounds mad stalkerish,” Xander said. Simon tensed up and of course he noticed. 

Grace threw Xander a look in the backseat, “Be nice, please.”

“I’m always nice,” Xander said and leaned forward to smell the seat. “Did you recently clean out your car?”

“I have a person who does that,” Simon said. Xander glared and Simon shook his head, “I didn’t mean to sound like that. I mean… It’s a regular service that I get done…”

“What is this scent?”

“I smell mandarin,” Grace said, with a smile.

“Huh. You love that smell. That’s a nice coincidence,” Xander said, staring at Simon in the rearview mirror. Simon wore that same smirk from earlier… he knew what Xander was doing. They got to the bistro, Xander got onto his phone and told Grace, “A thing came up. I guess I have to leave you with him.” 

“Well… Do you need us to bring you back to your car?” She wondered. 

“No. Enjoy your lunch date.” Grace gave him a hug and he noticed Simon shift a little, almost like he was coming forward. It was impulsive. He held the hug longer than necessary simply to gauge if it would have an effect. 

“Please call somebody if you need anything,” Grace whispered, pulled back and cupped his face, then walked through the door that Simon held open for her. 

For the last time that day, Simon and Xander stared at each other. “Good luck, Xander,” Simon said.  _ What makes the X think that I need good luck?  _ He went inside and stared at Xander through the window on his way to the booth with Grace. 

_ Potential X: Survey the X’s personal spaces. Car, exceptionally clean, seemingly with all functional capacities of the vehicle’s expectations. Home…  _

Alexandria picked the lock, with furrowed eyebrows and checked the time on her phone. When he went inside, wearing gloves, of course, he noticed things, some immediately.  _ “X is a massive nerd… with disposable income. Some of these figures definitely look expensive…” _ he recorded several of them. Simon had an entire wall of shelving dedicated to very detailed and realistic figures from various fandoms, grouped together by fandom. They were all handcrafted, but Xander couldn’t be sure if they had been purchased that way or if Simon had made them himself. The living room was spotless.  _ Maybe it has a person for that, too.  _

Across from the figures wall was a workspace with a computer and… Xander looked at the desktop… Everything seemed set like it was getting ready for some photo shoot or something.  _ “The X is meticulous in organizing it’s personal space. Everything is extremely clean and orderly, even this desk that’s totally decked out for gaming… but, he’s put away everything in a specified spot and left nothing even remotely off.”  _ He turned and looked at the book shelf. The top row were his own works, with framed photos of himself and who Xander presumed were his mother… mothers? Maybe she was a lesbian, and a red headed sister. There were two photos of him and the sister (an old one and a current one, one of the whole group, one with him and his mom, and one of just the blond mom… so… that probably was merely a friend or cousin or something. He didn’t have a photo of just the two moms. But, the rows beneath his own books and those photos were all alphabetized.

Xander explored further. The kitchen was just as clean, just as orderly. It was a pretty big kitchen for one man who likely didn’t have many friends, and it sort of reminded him of a movie set of a spaceship. The appliances were mostly chrome or white, with lights and stuff. The refrigerator was definitely new and fancy. He peeked inside and it was fairly empty (or possibly it appeared that way because it was so big). There was an absurd amount of different milk in there, oranges, gouda… raspberry jam, cotton candy grapes… He slammed the fridge.  _ “Grace has been either stashing groceries here or he’s been accommodating her when he shops. I refuse to believe that the few things that she has to have in her own fridge at all times just happen to be the things that he also keeps in his! The fuck is the bread?”  _ He went to the pantry and groaned at how it was both a walk in, and also as neat as everything else. He found the bread and there it was… Marbled rye from her favorite bakery… Xander clenched his fists and left the pantry, slamming it shut. 

_ Why are you so angry? You KNOW that she’s seeing him. She’s been seeing him now for damn near half of a year...  _ He entered a room that confused him. There were all these… costumes… Some of them were on stands, several things on a few racks… He walked a little further in and saw a table with a sewing machine and a side table with various tools and a figurine on it. This room was less neat than the others, and there was corner with a three way mirror, a shelf of wigs, and a rack of weapons… “LARPing!” Xander said, “Or something like that. These are all… costume things…” He saw a mannequin that was formed remarkably like Simon (like he probably was under his clothes). “Did he have this made in his image?” He picked up the figurine and noted it was a dragon of some sort. He didn’t know from what. He set it back down and moved on to the next room.

The bedroom wasn’t as neat either… but Xander had a feeling that wasn’t necessarily Simon’s doing. Because those were Grace’s Date Night boots at the foot of the bed and the book on the nightstand was one that she had been reading recently. He rushed to see if she had already taken a drawer in his dresser. Neatly folded clothes in each drawer, with the exception of a locked one. Alexandria had to keep watch outside, so he had to see if he could break into it himself. Whenever he did, he wasn’t expecting to see  _ that…  _ Xander turned up his nose at what he presumed was Simon’a sex drawer… Well, the dildo was a dead giveaway, and the strap… there were women’s underwear and lube, and other… things. He shut it and tried to rig the lock back into place, grumbling, “Grace better not have been in this drawer with him!”

For years, Xander had been telling Grace to just rip off the bandaid and bone somebody. If she waited until she found the weirdest creep in Seattle to do that, he would never forgive himself. But, there was nothing there to help him. All that he had proved was that this guy was an Extreme Nerd Olympics gold medalist, into pegging, and most likely a simp… because housing her favorite groceries? 

He opened another door and a white cat came running out, startling him. She rushed into living room and Xander chased her. That room was ridiculously clean. He couldn’t remember seeing any cat fur in it, and he certainly didn’t want to leave any. He caught up with her quite quickly and picked her up by the back of her neck. She struggled with him and he said to her face, “Listen, you little shit. I already don’t like cats…” He peeked into the room she’d come out of and saw it was an entire room set up like some type of cat paradise… He tossed her in and closed the door. Somehow THAT was the weirdest room that he had seen in the place. 

He had run out of time. He was getting ready to leave whenever he heard somebody knocking on the door. Alexandria would have still been out there, so… it must have been her, signaling to him to leave. He rushed out of the back and made his way off of the property, waiting around the corner for her and texted her where. 

“Hello?” Simon said. 

She turned around and looked confused at him. “Hi… are you… here for Luca too?” He stared at her for a bit, looked her up and down, sizing her up, figuring something. “Sir? Is this where you’re going?” she pointed at the door.

“This is where I live. Who did you say you were?”

“I’m here for Luca Magnus.”

“Ah. Magnus. They’re next door,” He pointed in the direction and she laughed and gestured with her fingers shooting herself in the head. “Simple mistake for a stranger. The addresses are very similar. You don’t look like any company that I’ve ever noticed them have. I’m pretty observant.” He blinked his eyes and her and gave her a very small smile that she could tell was not friendly.

Still, hers was as she said, “I’m the new masseuse. Are they gonna send me right back where I came from when they see me?”

“If you don’t have your supplies in your car, probably.” he said, looking around for her car. His driveway was uphill and if she had parked down below and walked up, it was suspicious for her to not have a bag with oil in it, or something.

“I can’t drive up these hills and I wanted to make sure it was the right house first. Thanks for your help.” He watched her rush off and head towards the Magnus house. She didn’t get into a car or go to the house, and he hurried to unlock his door, pausing only to notice that the lock looked scratched up and he couldn’t remember it being that way before. He came inside and walked through, eyeing everything. It looked fine. Maybe she hadn’t accomplished getting inside. Maybe he caught her before she had a chance. She looked familiar, but he was more concerned about making sure that the house was clear and safe. He reached behind his bookshelf and retrieved one of his guns, readied himself as he peered through his home, room by room. Samantha rushed out of hers. Nobody was in there, not in her closet full of supplies, either. He went into the bathroom, all clear. The bedroom… he noticed that the drawer wasn’t straight. He shook it and it was loose, but still locked. He  _ knew  _ that he would have noticed if that drawer was off in any way. He checked his closet, only his daily wardrobe. He checked his hobby workroom, and it seemed fine too, but his dragon… it was facing the wrong way. He always set them down facing himself. It was turned around. He turned it back and let out a frustrated breath.

Somebody had been in there, but they were gone, now. He put his gun away. If it had been that woman, he must have caught her coming out. But, why was nothing missing? Why would she break in and not take anything? Why did she look familiar?

He texted Grace.

Simon: Might have to skip coming over tonight. Someone broke in my house.

Grace: WHAT? Are you okay? What did they do?

Simon: Nothing appears to be missing, but I want to be sure to change the locks, and I have a drawer to fix. I don’t want you to come over, because I’m not sure why they were here and I don’t want you in danger.

Grace: Awww, that’s adorable. No offense, but if danger were to come through, I think I’d be a little more likely to have to keep you safe, Mon Beau Petit.

Simon smiled and blushed. He didn’t know if she was being condescending or flirting, but he liked it. Whatever it was.

Simon: I would never allow it, My Doll.

Grace smiled so brightly that Simon hit her right back with an affectionate nickname that her face felt pained. 

She was sad that they might not be getting together tonight. Simon had become a bit of an anchor for her. He comforted her without pressuring her, judging her, or pitying her. It was like he knew just how she worked, just how to treat her for the best results. She left work with her coffee in hand, it was chilly, but not cold yet and the florals of her rose, lavender and chamomile coffee were flooding through her sinuses and senses. She loved the tingling it sent through her, like a little cleansing at the end of a long day.

The train ride home felt lonely. She was never really alone. She often felt like she was being followed and usually, by demons. Other times, she hoped it was an angel. She smiled and opened her social media up as she sat on the vehicle, playing music and seeing what Xander got up to after he left her and Simon. 

Alexandria texted her earlier that she was going to be with him today. That was reassuring, as something was going on with him. She didn’t know if that was simply how he was now, or if it was a cause for concern. But, she was  _ not _ going to browbeat him and make things worse. Instead, she checked out his media, saw nothing. Checked Alexandria’s. Saw even less. She groaned. If they were sleeping together again, she might honestly lose her chill…

But, then she saw something on Simon’s page. It was a computer drawn image of someone that he probably got his friend to make for him (because, she didn’t think he was that quick with a computer, even having apparently been pretty good in school), but what she noticed was the bomb tattoo on the neck of the image. 

It was a white woman with a ponytail and a hoodie pulled over her head, but she had a tattoo on her neck of one of those circle bombs from the cartoons, lit… Grace took a screenshot and sent it to Alexandria. “Explain this,” was all that she typed.

Alexandria’s bubbles showed up and stopped several times before she finally replied several minutes later with, “Please ask Xander.”

Grace opened a thread with the three of them and sent the very same message into it. 

Xander replied: Can’t chat. Observing an X.

Grace: Why was Alexandria at Simon’s house earlier and…

Xander: Going dark.

Grace: Somebody better answer me.

Alexandria: I’ve got a client. If he doesn’t get in touch with you by the time I’m done, I’ll call you.

Grace texted Simon: Come over whenever you’ve finished with things. Bring a bag. Stay the night.

.

Simon didn’t really get to stay the night at Grace’s. The longest he had been there was that first time that she needed an alibi. Just the thought of being invited was everything to him, even with his preoccupied mind. He had to get to the storage unit and make sure that video cameras were able to record. It wasn’t that he intended to catch anything dirty (they weren’t like THAT, and he wasn’t even sure if he wanted them to be), but he did like having moments to relive over and over, where she smiled at him a certain way, or they held hands and you could just *see* the chemistry felt in the moment. He had opened the storage unit and went to set his bag down, figuring that he could simply set the recording and then dash out. He wasn’t expecting anybody to be at the storage at night, as they usually weren’t. He certainly wasn’t expecting to be met with a voice, and turn to see a face, and have it be Xander Helstrom, 747, Grace’s right hand, but…

“X marks the spot.”


	12. This is Fucked Up

_ Who. Did. This. Null. Think. He. Was?  _

Xander had every intention of simply observing, recording, collecting, submitting. And waiting for Grace’s approval… But, even through the course of knowing that this particular potential X… No.. this  _ confirmed  _ X; Xander somehow convinced himself that perhaps Grace had actually simply found someone who could safely and comfortably accompany her baggage. He  _ wanted _ to be wrong, even though he had known that he was right. 

_ This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. _

“I can explain,” Simon said. His Adam’s apple bobbed and his eyes were wide. The arrogance from earlier seemed long gone and with this realization, Xander was as cold and hard as steel.

“The fact that you even believe that there is some type of way that you ever could explain this makes me morbidly curious. Please, explain to me why you have an entire man cave of stalker paraphernalia on the single most important person in my entire life. Explain to me a scenario in which me finding that you have cameras set up in my sister’s home doesn’t end in your death. Make me, a feral child with a little hair dye and a cool kid’s outfit, react in a civilized way to you marking my family as prey.”

“Not prey…”

“I’ve been doing things like this for years. I know how the mind of somebody like this works. You don’t watch someone this way unless it's to seek out details to give you an advantage over them. There's no person who does this for reasons other than power and/or predation.”

“Protection,” Simon said. “I did this to try to protect her. You weren’t there with her…” Xander flinched for a moment. “She was trying to do everything on her own. She lost Heath. She los…”

“You don’t get to speak about him like you knew him.” Simon silenced himself. Xander began to pace, slowly, assessing the storage room, but keeping his distance. “He told me about when you stopped into the flower shop. You called Grace by a label that I know she  _ never _ would have told you. I knew  _ then _ that you were suspicious, but I never thought that you were like this!” He gestured his pinky around the room, absolutely horrified to see so much of Grace’s face in one place… in  _ this  _ place. This box with pictures and products and everything appeared to be either her image or something pertaining to her. “This is _ disturbing _ , Simon. Even to me, and I once stabbed off a man’s genitals with a serrated blade…” Xander watched for a reaction to that. 

Simon hardly showed any, but he was definitely uncomfortable. Still, that wasn't the response of someone who was afraid… It was the response of someone who was… plotting. Simon shifted. Xander warned him, “Stay where you are. If you come near me, I will kill you, and judging by your non-reaction to what I said, I think you know that I’m more than capable of it.”

“Capable, definitely. But… I don’t think that you’re that reckless.” Xander raised an eyebrow. Nobody had  _ ever  _ accused him of  _ not  _ being reckless before. This had to be another one of Simon's lies... “Sure, you’re impulsive and you have very little self preservation, but you know as well as I do that I  _ matter _ to Grace," Simon couldn't help but to smirk about that. "I don’t think that you’d take that away from her. She’s already lost so much. That’s why you’re even talking to me right now instead of stuffing me in a bag and throwing me in the van.” 

Xander’s nostrils flared. Simon was smart. Arguably, the most book smart person that Xander had ever met, personally. He might be able to trip him up if he said too much. Regardless, Xander knew that he was right about  _ this _ . Grace had already taken his side in the swing of things, as far as Xander believed, by even having him hold this space in her world, _ undeserved… _

Simon casually leaned back on his table and held on to it. “Let me ask you this, Xander. Has Grace ever allowed you to hurt anybody who didn’t hurt anybody, or do you all hunt down every potential danger in the city?” Xander flinched.  _ The O’s.  _ If he couldn’t _ prove _ that Simon was dangerous… she would be upset with him, but she wouldn’t let Xander kill him, even if it was obvious that he was a threat! Xander’s breath hardened and Simon’s arrogance returned. “I didn’t think so. Because, she isn’t some sadist searching for victims like Dexter to fulfill a bloodlust. She’s an avenging angel. Everyone she kills has hurt people and that is  _ why _ she hurts them. She doesn’t even like to do it. She just thinks that she has to…”

“Is that something that she  _ told _ you, or something that you  _ stole _ from her?”

“It’s something that I understand, because I know her better than anybody ever has…” Simon said, stepping forward.

“Fuck you. STAY!”

“I want to show you something. Something that I collected in secret before I decided to do this…” Simon slowly moved, with his hands where Xander could see them to retrieve something. Xander snatched photos from his hand and stepped back. “When Jalicia was grieving, because Heath died and you nosedived… Grace came over for an alibi and fell asleep.” Xander was flipping through photos of bruises on her body. He felt dirty for even having seen them, because she was sleeping and Simon obviously took these without her permission, and guilty, because that never would have happened if he hadn’t slipped up. Xander flung them and they slapped Simon in the face. He let them fall to the ground. “I was worried that one of those times, she might get hit harder than she could stand. She needed someone else, because nobody else was there for her.”

“You really think that I’m naive. I know what you’re doing. You think that you can make me feel guilty for being sick and unavailable to Grace and make me think that this is why you needed to do this… but all you’re doing is making me see why it has to be me that handles you. She won’t be able to do it, because I left her exposed to the elements and you poisoned her. She’ll be hurt at first. She’ll be angry that I took away her favorite new thing. She’ll be hurt that you wasn’t what she thought… But, she’ll be  _ safe, _ and I care more about that than I do her having a tantrum over losing you.”

“You want to add to the list of names that she cries out in her sleep?” Simon asked.

Xander had flashes of Grace through the years. That was precisely what she did. At 12, when he met her, she whimpered in her sleep for kids that were even right next to her in bunks, dreaming about the things she’d seen them go through. Of course she still did this. There were so many names. So many losses. If she loved them, she’d probably lose them. All she had left was her Apex survivors.  _ And Simon? _

Xander fumed and rushed forward. How dare he try to use Grace’s pain to save himself! He didn’t care about her! He just wanted to… do SOMETHING to her that Xander wasn’t sure of, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let him. He tackled Simon to the concrete and Simon bumped his head on the table as they knocked it over. It caught Simon completely off guard. He was on guard, because it was a stressful time and still caught off guard. He tried to get away, but Xander pulled him into a chokehold and wrapped his legs around him. Elbowing Xander only made him punch Simon extremely hard in the ribs and gut. 

Simon began to pat him down, panicked, but still  _ thinking.  _ This dude was… sort of impressive, Xander noted, until Simon found what he needed. Xander’s syringe. Xander tried to get it from him with one hand and keep him choked with the other arm, but that gave Simon enough room to unseal it and stab him in the arm with it. Xander flailed for a moment, but he managed to sputter out. “You can’t do anything, Simon. You’re… still… fucked…” He was disoriented whenever Simon got up and looked at him, on the floor, trying to move away. 

_ This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. _

Of course, Xander was absolutely right. Simon couldn’t kill him! He wasn’t sure that he had the stomach to kill anybody, not even somebody who hated him as much as Xander clearly did, but this was Grace’s… there wasn’t even an accurate word for what he was to her. Brother, best friend, hell even soulmate seemed so pale in comparison to whatever it was that they had going on… Not in a romantic way, but in a... ugh symbiotic way, in which he didn’t think that Grace was any more capable of living without Xander than he was without her. Hurting Simon would have hurt her, but hurting Xander? That would kill her. She would kill him, probably. 

Whatever they gave their victims to knock them out was doing it’s job with Xander. Simon checked him for his phone. It wasn’t on him, so probably in his vehicle, if he even brought it along at all. Simon grabbed his gun. The last thing he needed was Xander to wake up and find it somehow. He looked around. He’d have to figure something out. Did he want to try to throw Xander in his trunk? Tie him up here? He searched for something to tie him up… he didn’t have anything. At least nobody could ever accuse him of being prepared to abduct. He improvised, with Xander’s overshirt. That wouldn’t hold him for long, but it might help a little. He grabbed a few things that he valued and put them in his trunk. He didn’t believe he had the time or the room in his car to grab the surveillance equipment, but he at least unplugged it all.

He shut the storage and left to go meet up with Grace. He was crying, but at least Xander couldn’t warn her that he was coming. But, he had to determine what he was going to  _ do _ about him. 

He holstered his gun and pulled his hoodie over himself. He just… was on edge, felt unsafe, didn’t know WHAT to think or do… He paced for a little bit outside of her apartments before daring to go knock on the door. 

She flung it open, looked relieved, and hugged him tightly, “Simon! You’re okay…” He wrapped his arms around her, positive that this was probably his last time to do so. Once she found out about Xander, his world might come crashing down. 

Then he saw her. That girl with the bomb on her neck and it finally hit him where he recognized her from. He’d seen her on Xander’s social media months ago whenever he was trying to find out more about Grace.  _ She was in on this… Was Grace? _ D _ id Grace know Xander had found him out? Did she send him?  _ She cupped his face and kissed him quickly on the lips. “You’re safe.” He shivered and she wiped his tears, “It’s okay. Come on…” She led him in and the tattooed lady folded her arms and stared at him. “I think you’ve met my friend, Alexandria.” Grace covered her face with her hands, then took Simon’s into hers. “You’ve been super patient with me through a lot of questionable shit, but I know, with what happened earlier, that you’re probably so tired of me and my mess…”

“That’s not..” he shook his head. “It.”

“Where is Xander?” Alexandria asked. 

Grace was so consumed by the thought of her friends breaking into Simon’s home and potentially hurting him that she got distracted. But, Simon turned pale whenever asked that, so she immediately tensed up and stared at him. “He’ll be here shortly… He was following him, right?”

Alexandria showed Grace her phone. The picture mail from Xander was of Simon opening a storage unit and being inside of it and the caption, “747: Gonna engage the X” Now, Grace and her both looked at Simon. “Redness on his neck, little blood on the side of his face. Xander engaged with the X.” She jumped up and rushed at him, “What did you do?” 

Grace quickly slid between them and held her at bay. “I’ll handle this, please have a seat.” She turned around and studied Simon’s visible signs of a struggle and smiled softly at him, “Hey. Xander can be scary. He’s not very big, but he makes up for it in other ways. He’s tough, and he’s always been a fighter. If a fight occurred, I would imagine that somebody who isn’t very used to hand to hand combat might panic and try to defend themselves however they could, so… What did you do?” Her voice was calm, but her heart was racing and beating in her ears as her face was red and tears burned to escape the stronghold of her ducts. She was on fire, worried about why Simon might be so pale at the mention of Xander. Was Xander somewhere with head trauma, bleeding out while Simon found the courage to put it into words?? She didn’t want to alarm him and make it harder to find her friend, but she also was the most unsettled that she had been in a long time.

Simon nodded, “I defended myself. He.. He had a syringe, but I was able to get to it and I stuck him with it.” Both women sighed with relief. Simon started crying.

“Hey… Mon Beau Petit,” it sounded so pretty in her voice, and she was smiling, relieved that her symbiotic other was still alive as she touched Simon’s chin. “Can you take us to him?” He wasn’t bleeding out, but the tranquilizers in his system probably would make him sick, especially having recently detoxed.

“I locked him in my storage closet.”

“Okay, then we won’t have to search for him. But, let's just get to him so that I can make sure he’s okay, and I’ll keep them away from you and then… you’ll never have to worry about us again. I’ll leave you out of this mess. I just have to get Xander returned safely to me, okay?”

Simon sniffled, “You don’t understand. The reason he was trying to attack me…” 

“Let’s… get to him first, okay? Please?” He nodded. 

In the car, he tried to explain to Grace what happened. “Do you remember whenever I told you that I follow people?” Alexandria tilted her head, surprised by hearing this interesting tidbit. Grace blushed. She didn’t want to speak about that in front of someone else, but Simon kept going. “I thought maybe you realized. There were definitely moments where I said to myself, she knows. She has to. You must have sensed it, at least… Xander did. He sensed what was happening and he got suspicious and he came after me because I was watching you…”

Grace sputtered some air through her lips and cracked her fingers, “This isn’t really the time.”

“It has to be, because whenever we reach Xander, he’s gonna have the floor. I have to tell you now!” He sounded very urgent and Alexandria was already reaching for her butterfly knife.

“Stand down,” Grace said, not even looking at her. Then to Simon, “Listen… I know that you and Xander were fighting for a reason and I love Xander very much, but I don’t always side with him. I just think we need to get to him, then we can…”

“I did it to you!” There was a lengthy silence in the car. Whenever he finally stopped, in the lot of a storage company, he added on, “Xander found proof that I did it to you and he knew that wasn’t enough, so he was going to kill me and I… I didn’t want to die… I don’t want to die.”

“You aren’t going to die, Simon,” she said, but she felt like she had been gutted. Of course she knew… There was always a little sign that he knew too much. But, he was harmless. If Xander wanted to kill him, she just… there had to be more to it than this…

They could hear him before they reached the unit. He was throwing things and yelling. “Let him out!” Grace said. Simon unlocked the pad and opened the storage. 

Xander was ready to lunge, but he saw them first. “Grace!” He hugged her tightly and then whimpered, “Xandria.” Simon stepped into the storage container. Xander had made quite a mark. So many things were tossed around… months of research and fixation… 

“Simon… what is that?” Grace wondered, pointing the monitors. Her home, the inside of her car, her locker at work??? “Simon…?” Xander had plugged them back in and didn’t damage them… of all the things that he had taken his frustrations out on.

“I… just… needed…” She backed away. He stopped. Damage had been done. 

Her lip was quivering and she was still holding on to Xander, who was sobbing, mid panic attack, yet still zoned out from the tranquilizers. She didn’t want to let go of him. He was clean, and now he had chemicals in his system, along with being locked up for however long he was conscious, the fear that maybe Simon had gone to find Grace and hurt her and surrounded by… what Grace could only think of as a room of horrors. Her photos, artwork, partial figures… he even had what appeared to be a mannequin or a life sized doll… and she didn’t want to let Simon out of her sight or be in his presence, simultaneously.

“X confirmed,” Xander whimpered, over and over. “X confirmed. X confirmed…”

“Shhh shhh shhh…” She strummed his hair and guided him over to Alexandria. “Take him home. Don’t… say anything to the others, yet. I’ll take care of this.” She gestured at Simon.

“By yourself?” Alexandria wondered, looking at Simon. He didn’t look like much, but he was a little bit larger than Grace and he  _ had  _ somehow gotten the drop on Xan, of all people. Xander wasn’t able to fight right now and did need to be brought to safety, but she didn’t know about leaving Grace alone, especially getting a look into this storage room.

“Yeah. Simon, toss me your car keys.” He bit his lip, and obeyed. “I’m gonna take his car and I’ll um… I’ll be okay.”

“No, Grace! He’s an X.”

“Who has he hurt, Xander? What child did he attack? What person has he abused or killed or did anything to?”

“This… This is fucked up, Grace, look at this!” Xander said, shaking Alexandria off of him. “You’re gonna give him an O? You’ll make him an O instead??? You trusted him, the first person you trusted and he  _ violated _ that trust.” He began whispering to her, but everyone could still hear him, “You know how much damage I’ve been able to do with my reconnaissance… He’s doing what I do to perps, but to YOU. And his budget and his system is massive. You can’t let this stalker walk.”

And after that, he knew that he knew how to do Xander’s job, and do it better.

In the moment, he was more concerned by what Grace thought.  _ Would she kill him for this? Surely not. That wasn’t the woman that he had come to know. Under all of the things that she made herself into, there was this precious woman who was soft and caring... _

“He told me who he was, Xan. This is… This doesn’t feel good, but you can’t X him over it…” Simon smiled at the fact that she wasn’t willing to kill him. He didn’t like that she didn’t feel good, but presently, it pleased him more that she hadn’t dismissed him outright. So, he reflexively let out a pleased little chuckle and Xander broke free from her, determined he would take Simon out right then and there. 

He wasn’t cohesive enough, but he still had pretty good form to punch (albeit not as hard as usual), and he managed to get him to the ground where… a gun fell off of him… Grace kicked it aside and Xander laughed, vindicated as his best friend actually crumbled before them. “You have a GUN?” Grace asked. “I’ve never seen you with a gun before, Simon…” her eyes were wide, shocked, frightened.

“I have a license…” He began to pick himself up from the ground.

“But… Why… did you bring your gun to see _ me _ ?” she asked in a small voice, already crying, holding her arms out for the sky to drop an answer into them. Her face showed him she’d deduced an answer on her own. 

He shook his head, “No. No. I wasn’t gonna… I would never hurt you, Grace! All I’ve wanted to do since I’ve met you is know you and love you! Why do you think I’ve never turned you in? You think that I wouldn’t do my research? I know what you’ve been doing. I don’t know where they vanish to, but I’m guessing it’s someplace for the dead.” He laughed nervously, but came too close, so that she flinched when he neared her and he froze… He shook his head.  _ Why would she flinch?  _ Why didn’t she understand that he wouldn’t hurt her? “Have I ever done anything but support and comfort you? Grace… My Doll…”

“Don’t.” She was crying, now and her eyes couldn’t manage to stay still as they retraced every thought of every interaction that they ever had. She shook her head, “Oh my God… I was never even a person to you, was I?”

“A person? Grace… People are disgusting... animals! They’re scum that prey on others and harm them. You’re someone who cleanses the world of such filth… So, no… You’re no person. You were always more than that and I just needed to BE with you!” He took a swallow and said, “I didn’t want it to come to this. I tried to be close to you organically and you pushed me away every time it felt too good, because you just couldn’t believe that anybody could adore the real you. You MADE me do this!”

“808, stay on the O,” Grace said. Her voice was cold, but he saw in her face that it hurt her to walk away from him. Alexandria picked up his gun and whipped out her knife.

“Grace, don’t leave. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just upset. Please don’t…” He tried to follow her. 

“I can injure an O,” Alexandria said, pointing the gun at him as Grace and Xander got into Simon’s car. Simon pulled out his phone, but she slapped it from his hand. “Are you trying to make me kill you? Because, I really don’t like to do that. Not like this, anyway. An explosion or a fire, yeah. I hate getting blood on me. It’s hard to clean off and the smell makes me gag. But, behind them, you’d better believe that I will.”

He smirked and raised his hands, “I understand. She has that effect on people.”

“Come here…” She grabbed him and shoved him towards Xander’s car, popped the trunk and said, “Get in.”

“Are you going to kill me?” He seemed numb as he asked it. 

“Grace said not to, so no. But, I’ve gotta make sure that you don’t get anywhere near her. So, hop in or I take out your limbs and throw you in.” She almost felt bad for him. Grace had just walked away from him and she obviously mattered a lot to the dude. But, he also was an enemy.

“That sounds unpleasant,” he said and climbed in. “What do you usually do to O’s?”

“Usually they don’t know we exist. We wait for them to fuck up to get the proof to bump them up to an X.”

“Grace doesn’t like to kill harmless people,” he said.

“We saw children die before they ever had the chance to even know who they were. You don’t kill innocents, then you’re no better than the nulls that we kill.”

“No matter what I did to get close to her, she was never going to let me into her world, was she?”

Alexandria sighed and stuck his gun into one of her pockets and zipped it up. She kept the knife brandished though. “Why would you  _ want  _ to be? Xan looked you up. You had academic trophies and shit. You were writing books as a child. You’re famous to people who give a fuck about books. Your mom loves you. You’ve got a sister or something. You get to speak on panels at conventions or go to them and play dress up, and that’s something you appear to love, and with people you have things in common with. Why was it so important to you to be…” she gestured at the storage with her blade, “This close to somebody like Grace?” ‘ _ I wish I never met these people,’  _ She didn’t add.

He crossed his hands over his belly and wrapped his fingers in each other. “Have you ever watched something die?”

She scoffed, “You know what we’re about. I’ve seen plenty of “somethings” die.”

“Then, you know how it is at the end of their lives. They fight. They move. They do anything to stay alive one moment longer. Even if it hurts. Even if it only kills them faster. Survival mode has been initiated and they will not stop until they recover from even the sense of death, or until they die…” He shut his eyes and began thinking about the pain in Grace’s when he first met her. “Seeing Grace live was a lot like watching something die. Always in survival mode, even if it hurt, even if it could kill her faster. With most situations, when you’re watching something die… you want to do something about that. You don’t just want to watch it die. Sometimes, you just can’t help. But, sometimes… they let you get close enough to take them in and patch them up and see them through.” He let out a sad chuckle. “She left survival mode when she was with me. She knew that I was there to help and to heal her.” 

Alexandria had tears in her eyes and she turned her face towards the moon. “That’s not really love, though. I mean, it’s nice or whatever, in certain cases, but if the only reason that you wanted to be with her was so that you could save her, that’s some self important bullshit and only serves your ego.”

“Only?” He sat up, but she didn’t get alarmed. He adjusted, and sat next to her. “Yes, it felt really good to know that I had been given access to her, but you saw how she was with me… have you ever seen her that way with anyone? Xander thinks he helped her but he’s the person who sees you helping and comes along and says, “Leave them alone. They don’t need help”… Then you both just watch them die…”

“Man… What. Even are these metaphors of?”

“That one was about the bird that Paul Levchefsky said was fine and told me that if I touched it, its mom wouldn’t want it anymore. It died. Paul just continued playing at recess, and there was a dead bird near my action figures that had just died because I didn’t do anything to save it…”

“In Paul’s defense, if you were young enough for recess, you totally couldn’t save that damn bird on your own. They have like… bird doctor specialists or something.”

“I watched a lot of shows and documentaries on animal habitats and wildlife rescue whenever I was a kid and I was very smart. I could have at least tried, if he hadn’t interfered.” She shrugged her shoulders. Simon kept talking, “I was fixated on those shows for years. I remember seeing certain scenes where the cameras would be filming something being mauled to death, crying out while being ripped to shreds…”

“In a wildlife rescue show?” She asked, laughing.

“What? No… two different… Animal habitat shows AND wildlife rescue shows…”

“Shit, I was gonna say…”

“We are so off topic…” he did notice that she wasn’t holding her knife as tightly.

“Doesn’t matter. We have nowhere to be at the moment. We can chill and talk about Grace… and animals being ripped to shreds, apparently.”

Back to his point, “The cameras recorded for us. We were able to see these things. My mom would be like, ‘Why would you want to see something like this?’ and the truth was I didn’t. I hated seeing animals die. I hated seeing it, but it was nature. It was for their survival. I’d just ask her, ‘Why would anybody want to record it?’ They recorded it because they wanted those of us who weren’t in the wild to know how it was. It was allegedly educational. They’d have a British guy explaining what you already were seeing with your own eyes, just in case you couldn’t comprehend why everything was so brutal and why you couldn’t turn away. People are similar. I’ve been watching people for a long time. They’re interesting to a certain degree. But, despite what reality television series would have us believe, if you looked at people’s lives, there’s not much to be interested in over an extended period of time. The only people that we want to see is one with a story that gives us that feeling that we get when we watch animals in the wild.”

“Are you comparing Grace to a wild animal?”

“I’m comparing mankind to wild animals. Grace is... something else. There’s never been something in the wild like her before. She’s seen what animals do to each other and she’s stepped in on their behalf. She’s like a saint…” Alexandria stared at him, looking at this zealous passion in his eyes as he marvelled over Grace and how wonderful she was. He didn’t know her like she knew her. Grace was definitely the Queen Bee, but  _ Saint _ was absolutely stretching the truth.

He laughed again, “St. Catherine… You know… I think I know which St. Catherine she chose her last name for.” Alexandria looked uncomfortable. “St. Catherine of Alexandria!” He cheered. She didn’t seem phased by this discovery of his. “The patron saint of… philosophers and scholars? Grace loves reading, has a Messiah complex and a friend named Alexandria…”

“She wasn’t thinking of me whenever she named herself that. It’s just a coincidence. Definitely probably the… scholar thing, or whatever you said. She does think she’s so smart. But, if she’s so smart, how did she let you get this close?” 

He smirked, “Almost seems like she  _ wanted _ me there, huh?” He shrugged his shoulders and laid in the trunk again. Alexandria had all but put her knife away. She was thinking about that one statement. Out of everything else this man said, (and he could talk a lot), that was the one that wouldn’t leave her mind, even as he spouted out all of the facts that he remembered from when he read up on St. Catherine of Alexandria (to predict why Grace chose that last name. Hell, she could have just chosen from a list or something!) 

But… for her to not notice that Simon was watching her so closely… IF she didn’t want him there, that meant that she maybe  _ was _ in those last moments, before death. She was weakened or dimmed, somehow. She… was potentially a threat to herself and the operation and most likely a liability… Xan would NEVER hear that. Not about his Grace, and look at the mess she’d gotten him into tonight! He’s got tranqs in his system. As a recovering addict, was having a full blown meltdown and really believed that this guy needed to go to the Field of Nulls. The problem was that usually, neither of them were wrong. Xander made mistakes, but was rarely wrong. Grace didn’t usually make mistakes, but had obviously made one this time, unless the throwaway comment was accurate and she wanted this from Simon… Alexandria was vexed, and Simon was STILL talking

.

Simon’s car was in the driveway whenever Alexandria let him out of Xander’s trunk at home. “She’s gone.” He sighed. “I’m going to find her, you know. I’m never going to let her go.”

“That’s not my problem,” Alexandria knew that when it came to that, Xander would definitely make it hers. In order to make it hers in less time, she wouldn’t mention that little comment to him.

“It was nice to meet you.” 

“As a hostage?”

“I didn’t consider myself a hostage. We were in fellowship. Discussing Grace.”

“I don’t worship her.”

“Then why do you do everything that you do for her?” She furrowed her eyebrows and he nodded, “You do it for him. He’s got a girlfriend though. At least, they seem… cozy…” He saw her eyebrow twitching. “Of course, you know that. You’re all a close knit group of friends. That’s precisely why Grace was all alone whenever he was incapacitated...”

“Until next time, marked O. Be careful.” 

“Same to you, 808…” She clenched her fists and took off walking down the hill of his driveway.

.

It had never been used, so she broke it in with housewarming, even though she didn’t want to be there long. Her friends all came. Xander complained the entire time that with that O out there, they were foolish to come to her safehouse in Canada. But, she was both confident that she had no sign of this place anywhere that Simon would have had access to, and she was lonely. 

Xander didn’t want Alexandria to come. He told Grace that he feared that she had been compromised while keeping Simon away from her while she got away. To not start an argument, she simply let it go. She and Alexandria were once very close, but they hadn’t been lately. They’d always all be Apex, but 808 had left them for a time, too… Grace wasn’t worried. Xander was taking care of things. “Training someone to do Heath and Jalicia’s work isn’t easy. Heath’s not here to show his system and…” he looked over at Jalicia, who may have been asleep or not, with a cowboy hat resting on her face. “I don’t like to bother her. It’s still all too much, I think.”

“I have a responsibility to help everyone that I said I would help. So… I’ll see what I can do. I still have plenty of shady contacts from back in the day...”

“We can’t trust them. We can only trust us.”

“Well, according to you, we can’t even do that. Alexandria was “compromised?”

“Well… She’s been behaving oddly. Like she has ideas that she didn’t have before. I know he tried to get into her mind, like he tried to get into mine… like he…” He began to fasten and unfasten the velcro on his shoes. 

“Like he got into mine?”

“She did have one point… There’s no way that you’re both on your A game  _ and  _ didn’t realize what you were dealing with. I think he played every angle that he learned from watching you to make you vulnerable… So, maybe it’s good that you took this vacation. You can even work from here…”

She blinked away tears. “I’m all alone here. I hate being alone. Alone is when the monsters get to you.”

“Hey. What did we say whenever I had to be in rehab? It’s not forever, just ‘til it’s better.”

“There was a building full of people there. I’m off the grid and far from home.”

“Let me deal with him, and then you could come back.”

She raised an eyebrow, “I can come back any time I please.”

“Of course you can.” He felt embarrassed. “I only meant… I don’t think it’s safe.”

“What’s he been doing?”

“I’m making sure he’s not able to reach out to you… Unless that’s not why you’re asking?”

She felt hot, “He was a soft spot, Xan. Somewhere that I could rest my head and just breathe for a little bit. That was taken away from me, and I’m sorry that I haven’t bounced back in a matter of days.”

“I watched you bounce back in a few minutes after your first beheading.”

“That was before I realized that monsters are people like us… I thought a steward was some type of dragon. They’re all people. Horrible people… but people. Simon  _ wasn’t _ a horrible person. He did something that I never thought anybody could do… he made me feel like I loved him, and it was different than how I love you. It was different than how I love Mom and Dad. It was… I felt like he was in my system… in my bloodstream.”

“That was fucking oxytocin.” She bursted into tears and he chuckled too, even though he was serious. 

She leaned on him and gave him a hug. “No. This is oxytocin. That was something else.”

“Whatever it was… you don’t need it.”

“No. Whatever it was, I  _ didn’t know _ I needed it… and now, I do.” She grabbed her phone and went online. “I want so badly to check his pages. Then, I wonder, does that make me a hypocrite? I got so mad…”

“That he placed cameras in your personal spaces without your permission. He could have cyber stalked you all day and night for all I care. But, I wasn’t going to allow him to do  _ that _ .” He could tell from her face that she was about to justify things and take up for him. She had been back and forth with this for the past few days. Reminding them that he didn’t actually hurt anyone, confessing that she told him that stalking wasn't even that bad (one time), and regretting walking away from him and fleeing town...“Remember that he showed up with a gun.” She nodded. That was always the reality check. He  _ did _ show up with a gun.  _ Why? If not to harm or threaten her?  _ And just seeing a gun (sometimes just in media) gave her a visceral alarm. The red flags were drenched in blood and she didn’t want it to be her blood. She had too much work left to do, after this little staycation. She had to let Simon go the way that she had to let everyone else that she loved and lost go. 

.

The storage room went up in flames the day that Grace found out about it. Simon tried to salvage what he could and had the storage insurance, but the things that couldn’t be - certain recordings and photos that he no longer had access to, with Grace blocking him and blotting him out! He was trying to be sensible about things. It was a volatile situation. He knew that, but he just couldn’t believe that she was going to stay angry about this. The things that she had been through in her life, and this was where she chose to draw a line? Of course, he was grateful that she hadn’t allowed him to be killed. He truly feared for his life whenever he saw Xander Helstrom.

That was why whenever he was trailing Grace’s friends, if Xander ever appeared, Simon quickly caught ghost. He knew that he had at least warmed Alexandria up a little bit whenever they talked. She didn’t have friends outside of this group (like most of them), but the difference was… she wasn’t really friends with them, either. She felt more like a trauma bonded obligatory participant than like one of Grace’s other inner circle acolytes. The ones that he needed to work on were those other two ladies. 

He rented an apartment to rebuild his… research facility, and fortunately for him, he knew where an apartment had just been vacated, and he also had the money to get it immediately, telling the renter that he needed it too urgently to wait until they cleaned it out, so he would just do so and was willing to sign a waiver stating such… Grace left a lot behind. Nothing about the organization, of course, but just other things. Whenever you were related to people like the Monroes, you didn’t really need to hold on to things. She took what mattered to her. She hadn’t left behind anything that might be sentimental, but her furniture, many of her clothes, and stuff like bedding, towels, etc were still there… Simon searched through everything and… nothing that he had ever given her was there. “She took me with her…”  _ Or she threw you in the trash… _

He set up anew in the space and didn’t get rid of any of her old things, either, though he moved much of it around to clear a room for all of the things he needed. 

Simon read several “tips” on hacking, talked to Tulip and some of his computer nerd associates. Hypothetical questions… you would expect them to only be able to go so far, but for the most part, a few laughed about his “nefarious plans” with the information and kept talking but several didn’t seem bothered at all. They’d ask, “What project are you working on?” and depending on how well he knew them, he might say, “I’ve been trying to look up an old friend who I heard moved away, but I’ve lost her info, or research for a story.” Either way, the only person who seemed bothered was Tulip, and he’d tried to be as vague as possible with her.

“I told you not to come to me with anything else crazy.”

“How is this crazy? I’m just trying to figure out what systems this guy used and in what way!”

“Well, this guy, whoever he is, was doing some pretty sad work and honestly, if someone were to try to track him down, they’d find exactly what they were looking for… A lot of spying on a lot of people, people… who it looks like have VANISHED, Simon.”

"WAIT. So, this hacker wasn't even good at what he was doing?"

"He wasn't wonderful… I mean the cops probably wouldn't catch him but hopefully the FBI or CIA or something would. I say those because there are dozens of missing people in this man's computer. Simon… I told you not to…"

"Tulip, listen to me. This is very important, okay? It's life or death."

"Dear God…"

"I need you to give me that information and tell me how I would be able to defend against somebody doing what you're doing right now."

"Simon. Is this for that woman? Grace? Your mom told my mom that you're "seeing someone" named Grace. I thought it was odd, because of the information we discussed before and…"

"This is a dead person's computer. What he has on it is _ why _ he's dead."

"You  _ promised,  _ Simon. This is really unfair…"

"Life or death, Tulip. Could be mine, could be somebody else's…"

She looked at the first figure that Simon ever made her, of one of her first video game characters and whispered, "This is the last time that you get to do something like this. I feel manipulated and I don't appreciate that this is potentially dangerous to you or anyone else!"

"I'm sorry, Tools… I had nobody else. You're my only friend and I just happened to be lucky enough to have you be the best at this kinda stuff." She was there, because he heard her sigh repeatedly as she thought about it. “I’m really in love with her. She found out about me looking into her and she felt betrayed.”

“She’s justified in that.”

“And now, she’s out there alone, and people like those on that list, the ones who vanished… I know that you’re in the process of researching them… They’re bad people. They would hurt her. I just want to protect her.”

“I would ask if you’ve been disappearing these guys, since I obviously don’t know you at all… but the timeline isn’t right. They’ve been disappearing since before you ever looked into her,” she groaned, “Why on Earth could you not have mediocre white man first world problems? I don’t want to cross the mafia because you want to… whatever it is that you’re doing with these people… I… What is happening to them? Do you at least know that?”

“Thankfully, I don’t. I wouldn’t want to have to give you any more madness. But, from what I understand, Grace is helping to take down a child trafficking ring.”

“Taking them down, alright.”

“Is that _ so _ wrong?”

“We all say stuff like, “I’d like to get rid of them all!” but… None of us actually do it, most of us don’t actually want to do it, and all of us should not do it. We just don’t know enough. What if they’ve done nothing wrong?”

“They all have.”

“But how do you  _ know,  _ Simon? Did you see them? Were you there when they did it? Was it real, or was it an interpretation of scared children? There’s just so many variables, and with the types of proof that your dead source came up with… why not just turn these people in? Why do they have to vanish in order to handle them?”

“Look up Washington’s laws on these things and see for yourself.” 

She sighed again but it was a different type. “10 years does not seem like a lot of time for trafficking.”

“And it would have to be proven, beyond a reasonable doubt. I just had to convince my closest friend that I’m not working for the Seattle mafia, if that is even a goddamn thing.” She chuckled. “I don’t say it enough, but I appreciate you, and especially this mess from this year. I never should have involved you. But… your tuition is paid up!”

“Therapy is next, Buddy.”

“Send me the bill. It’s done. I PROMISE promise.”

And after that, he knew how to do Heath’s job,  _ and  _ do it better.

.

Whenever he first went to Heath Farmer’s home, it was indecent. He knew two things at the time. One - that he was killed on the night that Grace first asked him to lie for her and her friends and two - that he seemed to be where Grace picked up the paperwork. So, whenever Jalicia was having a moving out garage sale, Simon stopped by to give Grace a cupcake, look around, and phish his computer on the sly. He found out soon that Jalicia had been Heath’s long time girlfriend, and also that he eventually planned to marry her. Heath’s computer was like a shrine to her. Her photos were backgrounds and there were folders of them and she was in his calendar a lot and… They LIVED together. Why did he need this calendar? What was important was that Heath left a lot for Simon to work with. 

This woman was young. She wasn’t even old enough to drink yet, but apparently was really great at games and puzzles…

There were photos of her gaming (Simon knew to try to find out what games and what her handles were online), photos of her putting puzzles together, finished products, several of those puzzle books in their home, and Simon wondered if she ever put this little gift into play for Grace. How might she have contributed? What did she do for work, he wondered… Not that it mattered for this project, as Heath Farmer’s work didn’t have much to do with his job for Grace and these people, but he was curious, all the same.

Alexandria Jones was not a threat. He knew how to do Xander’s job. He knew how to do Heath’s job. He pinned up two photos of his next studies. Jalicia Barrett (227) and Sunetra Kincade (1000). He placed a sticky note on the corner of hers:  _ Xander’s GF? Destroy that. _


	13. On Your Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to publish what I had worked on before my hiatus, mainly for Tina and nem, as a Xmas thing. Ion celebrate that shit, happy holidays or whatever. I was hoping to have completed the story by now, but with my break for mental health, I guess it's either pushed back or gonna be abandoned. Will know in a couple of weeks or so what, if anything I intend to do with it. Its an Apex centered chapter. I'm still on hiatus. You can leave a review if you want to, but don't message me about Simon or this story. Thanks.

[ _ *The Grace St. Catherine Playlist, featuring songs used in chapter and songs that inspired the chapter* _ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2WoaQYte6MP8nxZk9lA2WV)

_ “Even through the darkest phase _

_ Be it thick or thin _

_ Always someone marches brave _

_Here beneath my skin…”_ Grace let the music play in the background as she tried to do all of the things suggested to her by her “spiritual advisor,” Sunny, whenever she moved into the place. She was doing more drawing - mostly sketches of carnage and rage. She was journaling a lot, mostly in the form of a narrative told by a hypothetical fictional character, because admitting to the things that she was doing on paper was a huge no-no, so she simply projected her life through her journaling character, The Saint, whom would never be referred to by name in any of the entries. In this particular one, The Saint was contemplating calling The Shadow. What would the conversation even be like? He would tell her how bad she was for being mad at him. She would tell him that she only hurt bad people, but he hurt a friend… he hurt  _ her.  _ That was different. So different. But she MISSED him. 

She had began to sketch him. She was more of a doodler/drew cartoons and comics on her phone and stuff… but she was shut up in this place for hours at a time and hadn’t really used a pencil and a sketch book seriously in a while. Then, it got away from her. After a few days, she had almost filled up a sketch book with drawings of Simon. She winced when she thought of his name. She had been avoiding speaking it and thinking it. “And constant craving has always been…” She stared at the phone, then changed the track. The last thing she needed was to think about craving, of all things…

Now, that the phone was in her hand, she glanced around, feeling that paranoia that she had since she left home. Nobody was watching her here, but she felt obligated to check, anyway, and upon verifying what she already knew - that nobody was fucking watching her - she went to visit his social media. Private? Since when? She checked another. Same thing. A third, same fucking thing! “UGH!!!” She threw her phone onto the couch and went to go chop wood. She didn’t really like to chop wood, but it did make her feel better to swing a tool and see destruction come out of it. 

_ “Old wounds _

_ Old fights _

_ Another day goes by _

_ I'm not playing by the rules _

_They can't take me for no fool…”_ Her phone continued singing as she went outside.

.

Jalicia Barrett was not the same type of watch as Grace was. She obviously wasn’t as upscale as Grace, so she wound up having much to do that was necessary, unlike Grace’s schedule of playing a typical woman. Now, to say that Jalicia was typical would be a stretch of the imagination, as Simon knew that none of Grace’s people were that and she had possibly an unreasonable amount of tiger items, but she was closer to an average person than Grace was. 

She went to Seattle University, but hadn't selected a major. She was still doing general studies after taking a few years to get her GED (She began trying at 16 and only successfully received it less than a year ago), so.. a freshman in college, which wasn't bad. She was 19. She worked on campus and seemed to have other odd jobs, like being a delivery driver or personal cab, and stuff at that Infinity Foundation place.

She didn’t have rich parents. From what Simon was able to find, she was never reunited with them, whoever they were. If they had lived in Seattle when she was taken, there was nothing on file to indicate that she was reported missing. Of course… he didn’t know what her real name was. The name Jalicia Barrett only became a name for her in the year after Grace left the mental institution. He knew that was likely connected. 

Maybe… she wound up in the system after Grace touched base with them? At any rate… whoever the girl who was brought into trafficking had been, she was now Jalicia Barrett, a girl who began existing when she was 13 or 14 and obviously probably didn’t know her DOB either, as it was on record as the day that her name was given, her documents were created all around the same time, so she had to either have been a baby whenever she was taken, or simply never knew her personal information like birth date and full name. 

BUT, she did have prints on file, so she probably had birth records that could be matched to them somewhere. He didn’t know if he wanted to get into that… or if she hadn’t done so herself and simply decided that life was easier being the person that she knew herself to be now. He certainly couldn’t imagine separating from his loved ones and then not finding them for a decade or so and then just… trying to pretend that they were family after all or something. She had the family she wanted… Well… she lost one. He felt bad for her. It wasn’t the same, but whenever he lost Grace, he felt like his world collapsed. To even pretend to understand how this woman must feel losing her life partner after years of being together, he wouldn’t insult her like that. Instead, he looked into the details surrounding that.  _ Whatever happened to that investigation? _

He’d provided an alibi for them and the police never spoke with him again. He’d done his best playing ignorant and pretending that everything was casual. Whenever they asked him about Heath, he said that he didn’t know Heath. “I’ve only met him once and he didn’t show up to the gathering… Is he alright?” They didn’t answer, just wished him a good day.

Now, he was looking through their paperwork and he was sure that he might find something interesting, if not useful. Simon had no idea what he was looking for with these other people. Something that led him back to Grace’s trail, and he had to figure out how they worked to even presume that…

Here’s the thing… Simon wasn’t going to write himself off as wrong or going too far. For crying out loud, the things that these people did, and they felt justified in their reasonings, so he wasn’t going to allow himself to feel bad. Grace might  _ need  _ him, and Xander was keeping her away from him. He cursed himself over that gun, though. However, IF she would have just let him explain that he only had it to keep Xander from getting it! He didn’t know what to think when he holstered it, but it wasn’t for her! Why would he hurt her? He scanned through paperwork, trying to take his mind off of Grace’s lack of faith in him and then, he was sure that he found what he needed. If not; he’d found something interesting. “Huh.”

.

Grace called Sunny for more tips. She was doing everything that she told her to, and reading all these books and articles, ordering all sorts of holistic woo woo shit, and trying SO HARD just to not lose it out there… Sunny was always a mood lifter for her though. They would talk for however long, laugh, joke, sometimes get entirely too serious and cry… they hadn’t done this in a long time, but Grace had been calling her more frequently lately and, well… it was necessary for her to be available. 

“It’s like… I don’t want to use this word lightly, and I especially can’t tell Xan, but I feel like I’m like… addicted… Does that sound stupid?”

“Xander doesn’t own the word addicted, Grace. He’s struggled with a few drugs over the years, but one of the reasons is because he’s sick. Some people can try things and never really become addicted to them because those things didn’t appeal to them in that way. This dude appealed to you in a way that your body wasn’t used to. He got into your mind, and most likely changed the chemical balance. Affected your hormones and shit, only to find that he wasn’t what you thought and now your chemicals gotta try to balance back out without his influence, so no, it doesn’t sound stupid. Perhaps melodramatic, but I don’t know. You _ could be  _ addicted to the way that he made you feel. Going through dick withdrawals is a struggle that people don’t give enough credence, too.”

Grace snorted. “I’m… not… going through that. We weren’t like that. I don’t even know if he ever was into me that way? It was like… I don’t know… I never got the feeling that he desired me physically.”

“What feeling did you get?”

“For the most part, that he wanted me around. I don’t know why. He never seemed to be asking anything of me but to let him be near me. He was very good about not entering my personal space, and even when I got comfortable, he still never made any move on me or anything like that. He just seemed to like to be… present.”

“Okay, but what would he be doing when he was present?”

“Sometimes nothing, really. Just looking at me, or listening to me. Sometimes, we were doing our own thing - me reading a book. Him playing video games or writing, or… Idk, working on a cosplay outfit.”

“Girl, on what?”

“He’s a fantasy fanboy before he’s a fantasy writer, so he you know… makes cosplay costumes and stuff for conventions. Whenever he’s not scheduled to be on a panel at one… This is something that I’ve observed, not something that he’s said. He… doesn’t talk about himself a lot. Not at all, come to think about it.”

“Xander makes him out to be a literal serial killer.”

“Xander hates him. What about 808? What does she say? Xan seems to think that he “got to her” or played some kind of mind games or something?”

“Well… she didn’t say anything to me about him, except that he was very talkative and apparently worships you. She was pretty thrown off guard at how comfortable he seemed with being caught and held hostage. She said that he is either the most nonchalant person ever or the craziest fucking person that she’s ever drawn a weapon on, because he acted like they were buddies just chitchatting, and we all know that he knows what we do to people.” Grace didn’t reply. Sunny offered, “Well, whenever I think about the shit that I went through with Xander and how we always seem to find each other in the dark, it's usually in terms of No Angel.”

Grace said, “Beyonce’s No Angel?”

“”Is… Is there another one? Because, if there’s anything AND a Beyonce song, just go ahead and assume that I am only speaking of the Beyonce option.” Grace laughed. Sunny recited, “ I love you even more than who I thought you were before.” Grace held her breath, unsure of what to say to this. Sunny continued, “All I mean to say is that sometimes people aren’t who we initially thought. Sometimes they’re worse. Sometimes they are seriously fucked up. Sometimes, they’re absolute trash… But… you might still love their ass.”

“Damn, Sis… Is this how you feel about Xan? Because those are some hard descriptions.”

“No. Xander is definitely a hot mess, but I was absolutely describing your… thing… over there. Jimony?”

“Simon,” Grace said, trying not to laugh.

“Right. I knew it had “mon” in it.”

.

Jalicia didn’t know what it was about that station that made her put it on all of the time, but her streaming service generally stayed on an old r&b from the 60s and 70s station, and sometimes 80s and 90s, whenever she was at work. She had a journal with a tiger on the front that she was writing down poetry in, but she could never think of titles for any of her work, and she didn’t feel like she was that artistically creative, so she’d title everything, “(Song Title) Plays in the Background,” whether or not the song had any bearing on the poem.  _ Today’s? Let’s Groove Plays in the Background. _

Work was a little bit overwhelming, these days, but only because of the things that had nothing to do with it. The fact that she wouldn’t just receive flowers sometimes and have her coworkers wonder why her boyfriend was this thoughtful, but they never saw him. Or the days where she would pout about being broke and having to pack a stupid sandwich and he would insist on having something sent to her at lunchtime, if he didn’t just make her a different, more fulfilling lunch instead. The way that she would get a text whenever he went on his own lunch break, and it would just be some hilarious video or a new thing that they just HAD to buy. Work was overwhelming, because what she had leaned on every shift was the fact that he’d interrupt it with something nice and that she would leave there and get to see him every day.

Now, she was listening to Earth Wind & Fire, in a gray pantsuit and fooling around on her computer while she waited for something to do. She heard the tone of the doorway and she got up to see if somebody needed help. It was a college bookstore and she was often far overdressed, but all she had aside from her typical attire were the pantsuits she wore when she had to do something other than be casual - like functions and interviews or whatever, so that was what she wore to work. 

_ The O. _ He looked at her like they were friends or something. A polite smile and warmth in his eyes. She stared him down and reached for her phone. “Hi. Can I just have a moment?” He asked. She texted: The O is here and hit “send” to 747. “It won’t take long, I just wanted to give you something.” The O reached into his bag and Jalicia had already identified four common objects in her immediate surroundings that she would definitely use as a weapon against him if he tried something slick. He handed her an envelope, one of the big yellow ones and she frowned. 

“I’m not taking whatever that is. For all I know it’s got anthrax in it.”

He laughed and opened it himself, pulled out the paperwork and handed it to her. “I figured out a better method of tracking people down than Heath had the resources for. I know that Xander is trying his hardest, God help him, but he’s not much on a computer and some of these things are hard to find.” She took the pages and glanced through them. Simon helped her find a certain page, “I’ve guessed that you maybe didn’t know much about this part of the situation that you all walked into. The… X, I suppose you’d call him, was very paranoid that he might be on your list and he hired protection.” He pointed out a few key lines that he had highlighted. “Professional protection, and yet when the time came to protect him, Heath wasn’t shot in the arm, or hell, if they didn’t want him to escape, the leg is an option as well.”

“They killed Heath on purpose,” She said, the wind knocked out of her as she did. She tried to take a seat, but just fell back onto a table and leaned against it, knocking down several books.

“They wanted to send a message and since you all slacked up since then, I’m sure that they think that they did.” She started crying angrily and wiped her face. “Flip to the next page.” Her hands were shaking and she wasn’t sure of what she might see, but she flipped to the next page anyway. “That’s your shooter. Since he was on the job, he confessed to being the one who fired and because Heath was breaking an entering and had no family to intercede for an investigation… the cops seem to be fine with what happened to him, despite the fact that our laws state that a person may not use more force than is necessary given the situation.” She shut her eyes and squeezed out tears, her fists tightly holding onto the phot0 of the man. “Next page are his personal details. Do with it whatever you think is best. I just thought that you would want to know.”

She shivered and cried, “This doesn’t mean that I owe you anything. I didn’t ask you for this and I don’t feel indebted to you for it.”

“Jalicia… I’m on your side. Whatever side Grace is on, that’s where I am. I did this because I want to help.”

“Well… This is the most help you’re getting from me - Xander’s on his way.”

“Then, I’ll be on  _ my _ way.” He had that polite smile again and she was almost terrified how easily it came to him. He left quite a few minutes before Xander arrived. 

She instantly fell apart as soon as she saw him, handing him the papers and explaining to him what he was looking at. She left work and was going to call Grace, but Xander snatched her phone while he was driving. “No, what if he. like, cloned your phone or something?”

“What? This ain’t Person of Interest, Boy. What the fuck are you talking about, Bro? He’s rich but it’s not like he’s Lex Luthor.”

“We can’t chance it. He’d do anything to find out where she is.”

“Give me yours, then.”

“Just hold off. I need to check this dude out. For all we know, Simon is just blowing smoke up our asses to get us to lead him to Grace.”

“The fact that you think it’s more likely that he falsified a bunch of police documents than that he simply sneaked them away is making me wonder about  _ you _ .”

“I let him get too close to her before, and I’m not doing that again.”

Jalicia snatched her phone back from him and they wrestled for it but, he eventually heard Grace on speaker.

“What is happening on that end?” She asked, laughing a little bit nervously.

“We need to talk about Simon,” Jalicia said. 

“I disagree with that sentiment!” Xander said in the background. 

There was a pause. Grace was panicking a little bit. Did they know that she was trying to check his pages? That she was trying to see if she could make a temporary account just to try to get to them?  _ How would they know that, Girl? _

Jalicia added, “It’s about Heath.” Xander turned red in the face and he shook his head and tried to breathe. “Oh, fuck you, Xan. You left him there to die. The least you could do is chill out while I speak to Grace about this.”

“Whoa… That’s not extremely fair. The Apex protocol is that if somebody is hit, we leave and regroup. We go in with the expectation that if we’re hit, we would slow everyone down and jeopardize everything. So, Xander and I  _ both  _ left him,” Grace said the last statement laced with sadness and guilt.

“He pulled you out and sped away,” Jalicia said.

Xander scoffed and then burst into tears, “I’m glad that you’re telling us how you really feel.” His voice was surprisingly calm, but the ladies knew that hurt him more than anything ever had in this world.

“Tell me what you need to say,” Grace said.

“Simon found Heath’s killer.”

“Simon found a person he alleges is Heath’s killer.”

“He had all of the paperwork to corroborate it. More than Heath has ever collected on any X.”

“He had paperwork on a man who works in security who may have shot Heath dead, but as far as we know is not a bad person. He probably was just on a security job. Somebody broke into the house he was guarding and he shot!”

“WHY DID HE SHOOT HIM IN THE HEAD???” Jalicia squealed. “I’ve been over this myself, before Simon EVER said anything about it, but WHY didn’t they shoot him to survive and answer questions about what is one of the most infamous string of serial murders to ever hit the city? Why would he risk his job to kill someone that way in security, if there wasn’t a reason that Heath needed to be dead?”

“You… you think that the security dude is old Apex?”

“I think that at best, the security dude wanted to kill a person that he didn’t HAVE to kill and he used Heath as a perfect excuse, making him a shitty person, in my opinion, and at worst, he didn’t want us saying anything to anybody, because he knew why we were there!”

“But, we  _ did  _ release what we had on the X. The information is out there now. Nothing was done about it,” Grace added.

“Precisely! Just as nothing was done about this trigger happy buttfuck, even though our laws state that you’re not supposed to kill motherfuckers if you don’t have to!” Jalicia said. She looked at Xander, poked him in the arm and reminded him, “You were the first one to claim you’ll avenge him”

“And you told me to go fuck myself.”

“Emotions were definitely running high, but if you’re looking for the chance to make good on your word, you’ll have to suck it up and just live with the fact that _ Simon _ gave us this, like _ I _ have to live with the fact that Heath is never fucking coming home!” She got louder than she intended. Xander wiped his tears with the back of his hand, but more just poured out. He nodded, but he was still extremely upset.

“Send me what Simon sent you. I’ll let you know what I decide from there.”

“Thank you, Grace.”

Grace sighed, paused, then said, “Heath would have wanted us to get out, but even if you had driven away and left us all, we wouldn’t have faulted you…  _ That’s  _ the protocol. Heath knew that…”

“Does that make it easier for you?”

“No. But, we shouldn’t make it harder on each other, either…” Jalicia sighed, rolled her eyes and let more tears fall. “I’m sorry, Jalicia. Heath was the first person in the warehouse that I ever cared about. I would trade myself for him, if I could.”

“He’d never let you,” she hung up and reached out for Xander. He accepted her hand. “I was mean to you…”

“You were honest. It just fucking hurts. Heath was the backbone of this family, and everyday he isn’t here, I lose more and more respect and control. He kept me grounded.”

“Doesn’t Sunny do that too?”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Maybe you don’t let it be. Maybe the reason Heath was your rock was because you thought that you only needed one. That’s what  _ I _ did, too. I didn’t even realize how much of my life revolved around him until I was just spinning in space, with nothing to pull me back. Why do you think I moved in with your ass?”

“To split rent.”

She gave a resigned shrug, but shook her head, “I thought that it would make things better, if even just to put me in a spot where I could just not think about it and not be alone. I figured I wouldn’t get over it, but that at least I would logically be able to grant myself some peace because you’re there too, and that there would be some type of comfort. Not emotionally. That’s gonna take more time than I even believe that I have left in this world. But… at least I wanted that solid ground to stand on, to be able to say, Heath would want his two favorite people to lean on each other and find some strength in his absence.” Xander sniffled. She finished, “But it didn’t matter, and I don’t even know what to do, because I thought that being around you would guarantee some balance, even if it didn’t truly help… I still have all of my grief, and I’m..” she whimpered, “So tired. And empty. And distant. My closest living friend is sitting right next to me, and I have been so alone…”

Xander pulled the van over, unlatched his seatbelt and hugged her. She wasn’t done. She was so focused on her train of thought that she hadn’t even actually noticed that Xander was hugging her. “Heath was always in my life. Before any other human that I can remember. Like, logically, I know that Grace took care of Todd and Heath took care of me… but… I don’t even remember anybody else until maybe I was 5 or 6. I know he wasn’t the only person around, but in my mind, he was. I have NO frame of reference that doesn’t involve him. He was…” She finally realized both that Xander was already holding her and that she was crying again. 

She remembered something. She was 4 or 5, her brain was never good at that part. She wasn’t in school or anything. All of her special days were simply moments and occurrences. This particular occurrence. A boy with light hair, getting hurt really bad by the stewards. Heath covered her eyes and started talking about flowers. He found a new book about them. He’d help her try to read later. The noise of the boy being beaten up was in the background, but at the time, she was too young to pay any attention to it and listen to Heath. So, she listened to Heath and the beating was background noise filtered out. Afterwards, he took her to the side of the building and let her pick flowers for their new friend. The new boy was mean. He was mean to Heath and Grace had to help Heath. Then, he was nice. She looked at Xander’s face and saw that same boy, just as hurt and just as angry as the first day she recalled a memory of him.

“He wasn’t always in mine… but he was the first person who was ever just nice to me for no reason other than to be nice,” Xander said. “There’s nothing that I want more than to punish a person who would take him away from us, but to have Simon, SIMON, give us that…” He was red in the face and shaking his head. “He’s using it to get to Grace, and I just didn’t want to give him that kind of power.”

“Then why didn’t you just say, ‘Hey, lets not tell her where we got the information?’ If you had just sent it to her with X confirmed, instead of fighting me in traffic…”

“You didn’t give me a chance!”

“I just… This ONE thing, then maybe I can move on.” He nodded and buckled back in. “I’ll get to work on the logistics. In case Grace gives us the go ahead, I want to be ready to move as soon as possible.”

.

Simon pulled his hair up into a high ponytail. He was going to try to get it into a bun, but it had been getting longer and thicker, and while he’d normally just pull the top part into a pony and let the rest hang, but it was windy and he was going to be pretty active, so high ponytail, it was. He had been checking out the X that he gave Jalicia, to see if they were going to make a move on him. He wasn’t positive of the typical turnaround time on an X, so he simply went to watch every night. He wasn’t going to do the car. Dude was in security. He’d probably make him.

Instead, he parked around the block and went to a big tree across the street from the X’s home to post up. He had binoculars and an awkwardly applied hunting tree seat. It wasn’t made for him to be up this high, but he situated it only to have a seat that wasn’t tree bark. He spent the time that he wasn’t watching the house on social media, checking out Sunetra’s pages… which… apparently she went by “Sunny…” which… Simon noted to himself that he had seen a little sun tattoo on Xander, and whenever he came across Sunny’s very tasteful artistic nudes, he saw that she had a little tattoo, as well, on her chest, of an “X.” 

Her photos were really nice and she seemed to… possibly be a stripper? He checked a few of her posts and captions. She hashtagged #burlesque in some of them, so maybe not a stripper, but something risque. She was in the fine arts program in college, for dance and had many posts from the Infinity Foundation of her doing dance workshops, yoga, and stuff. She had a lot of witchy posts, too. Simon rolled his eyes, but kept scrolling. Several of her posts were really funny. He noticed a yoga and meditation program that she would be doing at a community center and saved the post.

He watched the X for about a week and a half when he saw the van pull up. In the dark, he couldn’t tell who people were, but two had gotten out and through the binoculars, he could tell that Xander was one and the other was Jalicia. He checked the van. That was an unfamiliar one behind the wheel, but he presumed that it was Sunny or 808, and that he simply couldn’t see them... There was a loud noise and screaming in the house. He turned to see that Jalicia had a knife to a woman’s throat while Xander was escorting the X out, with his hands up. He got him to the van, injected something into his neck and tossed him in. Jalicia unhanded the woman, but appeared to take a bag along with her and the woman ran next door. 

Jalicia had taken all the phones with her. The woman had to run next door to call the police. Simon realized that she was probably doing that, and he got out of the tree to get back to his car. If he hurried, he might be able to catch the van! 

He went the direction that they had, and when he came to what he thought might be them, he put on a mask of his own, but it was a medical mask, just because that was… possibly not as weird as if he wore like a clown mask or something. They had NOT handled that in the way that he expected. Something told him that they either were rushing or desperate. He wondered why. 

But, whenever they pulled the van into an old train station, he parked behind the building and got out of his car.  _ This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up.  _

He could hear their voices, and he followed the sound of them, but didn’t come from the shadows of the building. They were dragging the bag into a field that Simon knew that he had passed several times in his life, but never paid much attention to. Nobody really did. Was this where they buried them? He wondered. He only saw Jalicia and Xander, pulling the body bag with one hand and carrying shovels in their free hands. Where was the driver? He went around the other side of the building and the van was pulling off. Where were THEY going? He couldn’t start his car. Jalicia and Xander weren’t far enough away to not hear him. He groaned and went to look back towards the field. He couldn’t see anything beyond the tall grass, but he used his phone to try to record where they were… maybe he could find it in the daytime. Besides, they were now far enough away that he could start his car without alerting him. He felt like he had enough. 

Simon drove home, wary of a van behind him for a portion of the way. He took some loops and turnarounds that he wouldn’t usually take before he was comfortable that they weren’t following him and it wasn’t the van… but after he got home, he noticed at the bottom of the hill a van, and it looked like the van that they used. It looked like the van that he was nervous might be following him. But. There was no way that the van had found him after those turns. Was it one of them, just letting him know that they knew he had followed them? 

He rushed inside and looked out of the curtains. They were there for a moment. They turned the van off and he took a deep gulp and reached for one of his guns. They got out of the van and stood, staring up at the house. DEFINITELY APEX.  _ This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.  _

They stared, wearing a gold mask, a tam hat, and the all black outfit that he had gotten used to, but then not seen for a while. “Grace!” He said. He put his gun down and rushed out of his door. “Grace?” He called, but she rushed back into the van, tossed something out, and peeled off. “Grace…” He ran down the hill and out to the road. She was gone… He looked down to see what she had thrown down on her way off. It was a Stop sign with a red squiggly line underneath the word “Stop.” He picked it up, roared and began to smash it against the pavement, before flinging it into the middle of the road and going back into his house. He called Jalicia and she looked at her phone, not recognizing the number, so she answered it. “Hello?”

“Was that Grace?” a voice asked.

“What?”

“The person who just followed me home and told me to stop. Was that Grace?”

“No,” was all that she said. He hung up. She put her phone away. 

“Who’s that?” Xander wondered.

“Non issue,” she said. It wasn’t a complete lie, and there was no way that she was about to ruin their night with… whatever that had been about. She and Xander were still digging when their third came walking up, her gold mask on her face and a shovel in hand. “Girl, where did you rush off to?”

“I knew he was gonna still be alive,” she said and pulled up the mask onto her head. Sunny. “Had to make a stop,” she said with a shrug. She and Jalicia stared at each other a moment, and Xander kept digging, oblivious to the exchange of them questioning each other with their eyes. It was short lived, because Grace was connecting for the video call. “Hey, Girl, Hey!” Sunny cheered. 

“Bitch, I’m so mad that I’m not there right now.”

“Be mad at Jimona,” Sunny said. 

“Simon!” Grace said, laughing. Then, more solemnly, said, “Draw a squiggle right across his face, for me.”

“Sure will,” Sunny said, pulling her knife out. “What are you listening to, Woman?”

Grace checked the info on her streaming, “Hurts by Emeli Sande.”

“That’s dope. Send me the link to that.”

.

Simon was at the apartment now, crying and sitting in front of the cameras. He wondered if she would return with them, but looking at the feeds he had placed to check the outside of their homes, he noted that the three entered Xander and Jalicia’s home at 3:47 am… and that… wasn’t Grace. It was the woman that he had initially identified as, “One who looks like Grace.” It was Sunny… He flared his nostrils and set an alert to remind him about the yoga and meditation at the community center. 

His phone began to ring while it was in his hands. It was a private number. For a moment, he let his heart accelerate. “Hello?” He answered.

Silence. He sighed and almost hung up, but… he  _ felt  _ something. His tears stopped, he sat up erect and waited. She was silent, still. He was afraid to break it, but more afraid of her losing whatever nerve she had at the moment and hanging up. So, he dared to speak. He kept his voice soft and low. Gentle, like he knew she would remember him being. “Hey…” He said. He heard her sniffle and it tore at his heart. “Hey,” he managed to say even softer. “Are you okay?” She sniffled again. “Tell me what I can do to make you okay?”

“Why did you do that, Simon? Why did you?”

“I wanted to be close to you. I wanted to know you. I wanted you… I didn’t know what to do. I was desperate. I  _ am  _ desperate. Please, tell me where you are…”

“You let Xander catch you.” There was the longest pause since the conversation started. Eventually, she spoke again. “I feel like the kids walked in on me doing something dirty…”

“I feel like it’s none of ‘the kids’ damn business what we do.”

“They can’t see stuff like that. They can’t see me being followed and watched, obsessively. They can’t just move on from that. You have no idea the kind of people who… Why did you have a gun?”

“Because, I had just been attacked by somebody that I know is a murderer and I was on edge…” They were quiet again. “I can keep them out of sight from now on. I can keep them away from you, at all times…”

“If I come back into town, my crew is gonna get… difficult. It won’t be safe for you.”

“I can’t prove myself to them? To you? Did you see what I found for them? For Heath? For Jalicia?... For you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Jalicia told me right away…”

“You sound like you’re smiling,” he observed, daring to smile, himself.

“I can’t help it… but… we can’t… do this, Simon.”

“Don’t…”

“We’re both in really weird places and us coming together isn’t good… for either of us, I think…”

“Please…”

“We shouldn’t be together, see each other, anything. You should… get on with your life.”

“No!” 

“Bye, Simon.”

“NO!!” She hung up. He bit into his lip so hard that he drew blood, trying to keep his composure. He couldn’t even go to the gun range right now! But.. He could… go back to that field. He knew where it was. He knew where the bodies were now… he… was running out of patience, but he reminded himself that it wasn’t her fault. The longer they kept her away from him, the more confused she would be. She just needed to understand that he was on  _ her  _ side. If she couldn’t… she would have to learn that there were consequences for going against him.


	14. A Shot in the Dark Pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part One of the "Prologue" chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually terrified of how this is gonna be received. Look at me being a weak ass bitch for now. Lol. Welp. Here goes anyways.

_This could have all been prevented. Had they just not brought it here. This could have gone smoothly. This could have succeeded, but instead of being on one accord and being on the same page, they had all taken various pages out of Simon Laurent’s book._

_ “Do you think she’s dead?” Jalicia asked. “I heard at least 6 shots… you think he put them all into her?” _

_ “Shut up, 227,” Sunny said. _

_ “Oh, I’m 227 right now? We’re still on Date Night? Grace just got shot…” Sunny grabbed Jalicia by the collar and the younger one laughed a little bit. “You still tryin’ to be Grace when Grace isn’t here? Because, that’ll be a long ride, considering that she’s dead now.” _

_ “I said shut up. Xan. Pull over.” _

_ “That’s not protocol,” he said.  _

_ “No, it isn’t. But, we were outside, and it wasn’t his home, so one of two things have happened, either he left her there to die, or someone has called for help. Either way, this is a different circumstance.” _

_ “She wouldn’t want us to risk the operation for her.” _

_ “NOW, you care about that? You didn’t care about that when you tried to make Simon an X, BEHIND her back!” _

_ “That was the ONLY thing I cared about!” He hissed at Sunny. “And did I work alone? Was it ME that made her stop trusting her fucking team?” _

_ Now, she grabbed his collar and he swerved the van. “Pull the motherfucking van over!” She growled. He obeyed. They switched seats and she circled back to where Grace had been shot. As suspected, there were police lights, an ambulance, the firetruck. The usual. She tried to pass by slowly and try to see. She couldn’t see Grace, but she did see a covering over an obviously dead body. Xander and Jalicia must have seen it when she did, because he yelped and Jalicia burst into tears. The workers were waving the van along, so she sped up only slightly, to not draw too much attention. Then, she saw him, standing with the police, talking… Simon. _

_ Her breath hitched and she blinked away tears as she continued driving. Neither Xander nor Jalicia mentioned him, so she presumed that they hadn’t seen him. But she had. Now, it was time to regroup. _

.

“Yoga and Meditation for Seasonal Depression with Sunny!” the community center board read when Simon stepped into the building with his mat and bag. She had been there for a while. He knew that, because he had too, only from the outside. She had a head full of faux locs that he hadn’t seen her sporting prior to whenever she made him think that she was Grace a few nights before. She saw him the moment he walked into the gym, but her expression was unreadable. He enjoyed that, to a certain degree. He did like that he didn’t have to feel as tense around her as Jalicia or Xander, but he had a feeling that he couldn’t be as relaxed around her as he was around Alexandria, and her little warning that night made him even more weary about the casual smile that she had on now. She was maybe like him… and he knew that he was nothing to toy around with, and would pay her the same reverence, until he understood her better. 

“Hi. I’ve never seen you in the community center before,” She said. She extended her hand, “Sunny.”

“Yeah, the sign says so,” he said, taking her hand and shaking it. They both held tight and shook firm, staring each other down, either trying to outshake or outsmile the other. And in a moment, they made the simultaneous decision to end both. “Is it okay that I’m not a regular? The post and fliers didn’t mention that it was a closed class.”

“It’s open. But, if it gets full and I see regulars…”

“I know my place,” he said. They both smiled again. 

“Well then, find yourself a spot on the floor. Looks like you’ve come prepared. Have you done this before?”

“No. But, I once tried capoeira at a country club.” She frowned. “I’m going to presume that look is because it’s an art form created by enslaved Africans. Trust me, I’ve gotten that speech already.” 

She rolled her eyes and pointed towards the door. “I’ve got other guests to greet. See you later, Monison?”

“What? Simon.”

“Right. If I forget again, I can always go with Surveillance Soccer Mom.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t?”

“Your preference is… noted.” She cheerily went to greet the people coming in, who she seemed to know, because she hugged them and talked animatedly with them. It was different than how she’d handled him and reminded him again of Grace, and the way that she had a certain obligatory politeness that seemed to be taught and structured and perfected… Sunny had that too, only she was using what he’d called Grace’s “customer service manners” with  _ him,  _ and the more natural pleasantries with the other people there. He wondered if she had made that choice on purpose, or if it was just a side effect of her not trusting him? At any rate, he noted that she didn’t immediately reach for her phone to alert Xander, the way that Jalicia had whenever she’d seen him enter her space. In fact, she hadn’t done so, even by the end of the class.

She wished several of them well, gave some info on upcoming things, and other warm and gentle dealings, until it was only she and Simon left in the room. Still, he noted, she didn’t get onto her phone. In fact, she seemed to be waiting for him after she packed up all of her things. He knew that she didn’t have to lock up, so he wondered why. She offered no insight. Just stared at him, with all of her things packed away and her bags on her shoulders. Still, no phone. 

Simon collected his things and went up to her, hoping that he could gain something from whatever their exchange was about to be. “I… you know who I am, right?” he asked. She threw her head back and cackled to the skies, echoing off of the gym walls until they were out in the cold of the air and her lungs felt the repercussions. “I now regret asking that.”

“I know who you are. That lackluster writer that has risen to popularity only because you’re in a package that can be rewarded for mediocrity. Timonthy Something.”

“Did you say Timonthy? TiMONthy?”

“I’d call you “Tim,” for short, but that’s one of my favorite characters from The Magnus Archives, and I don’t wanna blend that world with the one you’re a part of. Maybe I’ll say “Mon.”

He chuckled and put on ear muffs. “You seem really chill about me being here, is all. I thought that maybe you didn’t realize. The others are a little bit different about me.”

“Meh. Maybe if I was there, I’d feel differently. It isn’t like I’m not empathetic. I really am, and if the others feel threatened or anxious, I would never discount that for them, but I also have no firsthand experience with you that has given me any reason to personally hate or fear you and I don’t like to say it out loud too much, as it makes space for my loved ones to get really offended and upset, but the people who were there for whatever it is you supposedly did - I’m hesitant to take what they say at face value, because they can be very close minded. Grace isn’t trippin,’ so maybe they are.”

“Then, why did you threaten me?”

“If you read it as a threat, I can’t change that, but it does help to mold my opinion of you and what you’ve been doing to my good sis…”

He frowned and looked at the ground. “Well… when you put it that way, I guess it wasn’t threatening. I’m not a harm to her. I never have been. I don’t think that I could hurt her if I tried. She grew up on the streets. I was in one fist fight when I was 13, and it was mostly me just getting the shit kicked out of me and trying to shield myself.”

She laughed again, “I’ve been told you have that effect on people. What’d you do to get your ass kicked?” 

“I told people that I had a crush on a boy.” She immediately stopped laughing and felt bad. He shrugged his shoulders, “It got me sympathy points and my first boyfriend, so I can’t be too mad.”

“You can, if you choose to, but if you choose not to, I support that. It’s up to you.”

He looked at her and she seemed genuine. She seemed nice, despite him knowing that she was definitely on a murder team. “Okay, so if you’re not threatened or whatever the others are, why’d you come after me?”

“I didn’t come after you. If I had come after you, you’d be in the Field of Nulls. I gave you a chance to be free from that kind of destiny. It is never pretty. Never painless. Never without every bit of suffering that can be provided, and the death is slow and potentially terrifying. It’s death sentences that only the worst kind of scum gets to endure… You seem like high level scum. Just because you have poor impulse control, bad judgment in romance and a passionate death wish doesn’t mean you deserve what we do to people. And Grace shouldn’t have to worry about you, either.”

“The Field of Nulls,” Simon repeated.

“I think you know what that is.” She wasn’t smiling. In fact, she was staring at him with a threatening expression. “Personally, I’d have called it the Wormfood Wonderland. So far, only the Apex and the nulls know what it is. And you know what we do with the nulls.”

“Is that another name for your Xs?” This man’s curiosity blew her mind. She couldn’t tell whether he really was so curious about learning more secrets or if it was a defense mechanism to avoid fear of danger.

“Yes,” She said. 

He started to ask something else, but she waved a finger and said, “Aht aht aht. Have a good day, Salmonella.” 

“I refuse to answer to that one!” He said and huffed a little bit as she got into her car, which looked like a ladybug… like it was one of those red bugs, and she’d added spots, headlight eyelashes, a sunflower on the head, and various bumper stickers of witchy stuff and pro vagina sentiments… He furrowed his eyebrows at the I Heart My Vagina one and really wondered who the hell this woman was. Maybe he didn’t understand her at all… and if he couldn’t understand her, that would certainly make it harder for him to win her over or overthrow her. Either way… when her car started, some loud female rap music began, she tossed something out, and she took a few moments getting settled before she actually drove away. Simon watched her pull away and then looked down at her litter… It wasn’t litter. That was why she left it. He picked it up. It was a flier from his mom’s bistro and in curly q handwriting a message: “I SAID stop,” with a smiley face sticker.

He glared at the direction the car had gone in. She wouldn’t. They couldn’t. What would she do to his mom? Nothing. He didn’t believe her. His mom was an upstanding citizen in two countries, a local feminist icon, in a way - single mother and business owner who frequently allowed gatherings for rallies and stuff in her place of business, and a good, wholesome person. They didn’t even hurt that killer’s wife. There was no way that they would hurt his mother… But… He couldn’t risk it. He backed down. He wasn’t going to press Sunny. She was too mysterious… He… was afraid of her. Unlike the others, even Xander, whose weaknesses he saw, understood and could exploit in the face of danger.. He just couldn’t figure that out with Sunny.

From everything he took note of, she had… he didn’t know how to word it… nothing of value to her. Of course, she seemed like she loved her family and her friends, and the kids, but… she just read like an empty vessel, mimicking a loving daughter, friend, mentor. Even when she was around the yoga students that she seemed to genuinely like, he just felt like her energy wasn’t decipherable enough to throw caution to the wind. _THIS. Was definitely a threat._

He was frustrated after that. He went to the gun range. He spent a few days on a “detox” of sorts. He stayed away from Grace’s friends. He went to practice shooting, visited his mother, got chewed out by his literary agent, and went back to the bookstore coffee shop to try to focus on his book again.  All he had at this point was a title: Beauty, Like the Knight… and the tentative synopsis that he bullshitted to Chloe, “She’s an avenging angel who slays child predators and stuff.”

“HOW is that urban?” She had demanded.

“They’re in a fucking city, Chloe,” he’d said, with a low coldness in his voice that she wasn’t used to and he certainly had never used that type of language with her before. The silence between them tipped him off that she was shocked and potentially upset, so he chuckled awkwardly and said, “I haven’t had coffee today, but I’m in the coffee shop. She’s on a quest to end a trafficking ring in an urban setting and… I don’t know, Chloe… I’ve got a lot of notes. I’ll produce an outline today.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay… Simon, are you okay?”

“I went through a recent breakup… Should fuel my soul for creativity.”

“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t even realize that you were involved with anyone. Well… I look forward to seeing what type of urban magic you create.”

He nodded and hung up. Urban Magic… He tilted his head at the screen. Maybe he  _ should  _ add magic to the story. He shook his head. They didn’t WANT magic from him. Magic wasn’t selling recently. Maybe if he lollygagged long enough, he’d miss this wave of everybody trying to pretend to care about diversity by lazily including POC here and there or telling a tone deaf story, but dipping the language and/or characters in a little bit of color/culture that the writers didn’t understand or know… He sighed… And why did he even care to stay relevant in writing if he was going to be writing crap that he didn’t even care about?

But… he did care about her. He cared about her life. He cared about her story. He missed her and he missed the rush of having her there. But, he knew that he had to make the choice and currently, that choice was that he loved his mom and Grace refused to be around him. Her friends were keeping them apart, but if even one of them would hurt his mother in the process, he had to let go of this remarkable fantasy where this beautiful deadly knight falls in love with a sensible prince, no matter how much he was willing to give to her in the process. Besides, he’d never done this before - let himself be so taken up with someone that he shirked all reason and rationale to know them and to love them… So, Simon decided to move on.

It “worked” for a little while. For a few weeks, he stopped following them, stopped watching, and even got back into the habit of focusing on work and stuff. He was sending Tulip massive therapy checks and whenever his 26th birthday rolled around, he tried to enjoy himself. He and his mom went to Minnesota to visit Tulip and her mom for both his birthday, Christmas and New Year, since those were all three so close and the Olsens were like their family. He opened his social media back up and was regarded with a lot more online love than he had for the weeks he had been set to private, hoping to weed her out. She was gone. He had to just accept it.

Except… he couldn’t deny himself one indulgent little search. It was his birthday, and he had resisted for weeks! That was very big of him, considering that most of his year had been spent focused on her and her alone and this was ONE day where he should have been able to just try to peek and see if anybody saw what she was doing on today… And… she was back…

He saw an account come up in her name on one of the social media platforms “Grace St. Catherine Artwork” and… he was now scrolling through her photos while everyone was having cake… She had artwork she was posting. The Saint and The Shadow… They seemed to be foils, but no… no, no… He understood it better than most of the people giving the works likes. That static figure in the background of the heroine in these images wasn’t an enemy, lurking around her… it was an extension of who she was in the light… and some of them even had a face… His face. She was really good, even though she “dabbled,” according to her. But, she “dabbled” in a lot of things that she wound up being pretty good at. He wanted to go through and like them all, but he was so afraid she might vanish again… and even though he was supposed to just be checking, a small indulgence for his birthday… he knew the moment that he saw a video of her drawing vigorously while Hazel walked around on the desk and read the caption, “Thinking about my ex on his birthday and making what I would have given him. Not gonna show you all, but that’s what I’m doing. 😝” and he noticed that it had been posted today… he felt like he was falling down a dark chute that led him directly back into his deepest feelings. 

“Oh, he’s on Grace’s page,” he heard his mother say and it snapped him back into the room. He looked up and Tulip was staring at him in concern, Mikayla, in confusion and Aunt Meg gave him a sympathetic look. His mother kissed him on his hair and squeezed his shoulder, “We can do gifts later.”

“No. No… I’m good.” He smiled and Tulip noted that it was a different one than the one that he had earlier. She couldn’t tell which one was more painful to look at, that empty one from when they arrived, or this one laced in emotion that she just… worried about.

Whenever she found him later, she reminded him, “You said that you two were over.”

He nodded, “We are,” he said and Tulip knew that he never lied on purpose, but he sometimes… lied to himself and fully believed it. It was fine before Grace, but all she could do now was be afraid for him and his… delusions of grandeur.

“I thought she gave up social media.”

“I guess she felt comfortable enough to return. It’s just a business page, though. Well.. An art page. But, it looks like she sells her work. That’s cool. Good for… good for her.”

“Simon, please promise me that you won’t get yourself entangled in this woman again…”

He frowned and turned to look at her, “No.”

“Simon.”

“I’m not going to promise you anything about her. I can’t. I don’t like to lie, and… I just don’t know. I don’t know what I’m going to do when it comes to her. I never meant to become obsessed. I’ve never stalked anybody. I never… was the person that my emotions for her turns me into. I can’t make any promises anymore, Tools. Not about her.” She sighed and wanted to cry, but also didn’t want to in front of him. He patted her on the back, absentmindedly and went back inside. 

After the holidays, whenever he got back into town, he’d successfully been ONLY watching Grace’s one art social media page (not officially following it, either) and had been “off” of watching her friends or engaging in their business for almost two months! He was proud of himself. He wondered if that was why when he got home, there was a jumbo envelope outside of his door with no postmark and HAPPY BIRTHDAY in big letters and familiar script. He picked it up and opened it before even unlocking his door, neglecting his luggage bag now to see this artwork, drawn onto cloth, of him curiously reaching out for a rose, meanwhile its thorns were wrapping around him and even cutting into his flesh. His face is enamored and the rose is wilting. He looks like if he can just touch it, he believes that at least one of them, or perhaps both might be saved… Or… maybe he looked like if he could just touch it that one of them or both might perish… So, he didn’t really know what message she wanted him to comprehend from it. He guessed that would depend on perspective, and in either… he still needed to touch her. 

.

Simon messaged the art account, “I don’t understand. Why are you doing this to me? I stopped. I left you alone. I let you go… Why are you torturing me? Is this what it felt like to you? Are you punishing me for wanting you too much? For giving up on you and moving on? Please… just… tell me what you need me to do…”

Sunny sighed and held her forehead, then looked at Xander, “What is it that you need him to do?”

Xander rubbed his hands together, thinking to himself, then said, “Arrange a meeting for him, in the Field, since he fucking knows about it now. Make him come alone and… I’ll handle it from there.” Sunny bit her lip and stared at the screen. “Come on, Sunny. You’re the only one that might be able to fool him. He’s too skilled in Grace for any way that I might type it up to actually sound like her. You capture her perfectly. He obviously believes that this is her page.”

“That’s mostly on the strength of Xandria copping her art style. This just… This is going further than what you initially said we were doing, which was figuring out if he really had moved on or if he was just waiting for an opening to come for her again… It feels like we CREATED an opening that he wasn’t waiting for. If you would have told me about the birthday present, I never would have agreed to this.”

“Sunny…” Xander kneeled in front of her and cupped her face, “I would never ask you to do anything that you don’t believe in and I won’t ask you to do anything else for me, ever. But, I  _ have  _ to protect her and I have to protect all of us. He’s dangerous.”

“I don’t think that he is, Xan…”

“He IS!” He rolled the chair aside and began to type, hoping that maybe Simon was too shaken up to note any differences. “I think we need to face each other and finally settle things, good or bad… I’m not going to live in fear. I’ve done that already.”

Simon wiped away tears, “There’s nothing to fear. I just… Okay. Let’s meet, then. Remember our last date night?”

Xander blinked and looked at Sunny, “Do you know what that means? Is this code? Did she have CODE with him???”

Sunny shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, “He was her official alibi for a few months, just in case, so maybe it’s something to do with that. She’d definitely remember though, and he’ll definitely know that she wouldn’t have forgotten a detail like that.” She folded her arms and watched Xander type.

“I do. But, that’s not what I want. I want it on MY terms. You’ve controlled enough without my permission. Meet me in the place that you weren’t supposed to be.”

Simon suspiciously looked at the message. That could mean anything and while Grace was very vague at times, he usually knew exactly what she was vaguing about... “Your apartment?” he asked. “The storage unit? Where is this place that you’re talking about?”

Xander frowned, “I think he’s made me. Sunny… You have to help.”

“I literally don’t.”

“If he figures out that this is a set up, he’ll react and it’ll be bad.”

“Then just say “Sorry, I can’t do this. I’ve gotta go,” and leave him the fuck alone.”

“NO! I can’t do THAT.”

Sunny rolled the chair back in front of the computer and typed out, “Huh. I was told that you and my Left Hand discussed this place whenever you last saw each other. She was… compelled to give you some advice on the subject.”

“Oh…” He frowned. If she wanted him to come to the Field of Nulls, maybe he understood this drawing, after all… She didn’t think that she could come home unless he was gone. She intended to kill him. He let tears fall down his face. She betrayed him. He knew that she was upset and that she wanted distance, but he never would have thought she would take it this far. He responded, “I don’t like this Grace. It feels like I’ll be harmed. I’m going to have to set up some insurance. If something happens to me, I’ll have to have someone… release things. Are you okay with agreeing to this?”

Xander hissed, “Shit!” Sunny stared at him. At any moment, he could just admit defeat, confess to Grace and work on fixing her anger about it. “Reply something, please?”

She sighed and typed, “Do whatever makes you feel safe. You should know that I wouldn’t hurt you, but I understand why you’re leery.”

This was… oddly trusting, but suspiciously selfish. Grace would begrudgingly agree to do their last Date Night alibi and take upon the potential danger to her group all on herself. As much as it hurt him to know it, she would NEVER allow even the idea of putting them in danger, not for anything, not even him. And… to just contact him and then do so, out of nowhere, when he hadn’t been bothering any of them or her in months? He looked at the artwork again. He began to look through artwork that he had salvaged of hers and he found one that he remembered, of him. He checked it against this one and wow, this was elaborate as hell of a plan and ALMOST got him, but… that wasn’t Grace’s work. It was beautiful, and he loved the whatever the message was or the warning… but, somebody else had made this. He wondered if they had forged the “Happy Birthday,” or if Grace had actually written it, and if she had, had it been for this? That didn’t seem likely. “If you don’t meet me at our last Date Night in 30 minutes, I’m going to set the wheels in motion.”

Sunny tossed her hands in the air. “He made us. You’d better come clean to him and to Grace.”

“It’ll take me less than 30 minutes to get to his house and kill his ass,” Xander said, grabbing a bat with nails hammered into it.

“You can’t be serious. Grace is gonna…”

“Forgive me! Grace is gonna forgive me for fucking up and fixing my mistake!” Xander fussed. Sunny tried to stop him and he snapped at her, “You’re wasting my time! He’s gonna rat on us to the police!” She moved aside, hurt and scared, but when he pulled off, she called Grace. This was going too far and even if he DID successfully kill Simon, he was going to definitely be fucking arrested and thrown into prison for the rest of his life. 

“Grace, this is an emergency. Xander is going after Simon.”

Grace KNEW it was true, because even though Sunny was playful, she wouldn’t play like this and this was the first time that she had ever said his name right. “Warn him,” Grace said first. Sunny typed it into the messages, as Grace added, “And explain it to me.”

After the 15 minutes it took Sunny to explain everything, from the warning Simon to stop, Xander being paranoid that he was still out there, watching and waiting, the fake art page, the gift, the ruse and tonight’s messaging, Grace was already heading for the airport. Xander was going to lose his shit, but Grace was losing hers and Sunny could tell that there was gonna be hell to pay whenever she got back. 

It was hours later that Xander came back home, and Sunny wasn’t there. Jalicia was asleep, but he woke her up and went over it with her. He had gotten a call from Grace. She found out about him spearheading his first executive decision to take Simon out while she was in Canada and she was on her way… She pulled rank on him, and she was probably going to kill him… to… to actually choose this null over him… “She’s unfit to lead, right? She’s… she’s fucking lost it, right? RIGHT?”

Jalicia pulled him into a hug and let him cry on her, “Grace would never hurt you, Xander. Your paranoia is just messing with your mind. Grace would never, ever hurt you.”

“She’s choosing him over us. He threatened us. He said he would turn us over and she’s going to give him what he wants? She’s going to just LET him use her like a puppet? She’s let him void out every part of her that has made her the champion we put all of our trust into!”

Jalicia knew Sunny’s routine enough to remember which tea to make, which grass to smoke, which songs to play and Xander eventually fell to sleep in her bed, crying over it all.

.

Grace called Simon and he picked up, while at her old apartment. “It's me,” she said.

“Hey… Was it you? Before?”

“No, but I’ve been caught up to speed. Where are you now?” He said the address and she froze, “My old apartment?”

“Yeah. I figured that 808 would be less likely to set my headquarters on fire if they were here. The damage that might be done to uninsured neighboring apartments and all that. The thing is that I was trying so hard to get over you and to give you space and they just… didn’t let me. This shouldn’t be allowed. They shouldn’t be allowed to do this to me…”

“Well… Let’s call it even for your previous violations.” They were silent. “Please, Simon. If you ever cared about me, don’t hurt them…”

“Why does..?” he groaned so loudly it scared her. “Why does EVERYONE act like I’M the dangerous person? I’m THE ONLY person in this entire situation who ISN’T fucking dangerous!” He took a deep breath and shook his head, “Sorry, that was unfair, and I’m sorry.”

“You said that you were going to turn them in if I didn’t come to see you.”

“I knew that wasn’t you. They… still don’t know you as well as they think that they do and if they do know, they certainly can’t translate it properly. I wouldn’t hurt them or you, I was just testing to see if they would tell me the truth.” He heard a knock on the door and he froze. 

“Are you gonna let me in?” she wondered. He thought about grabbing his gun, just in case she didn’t believe him and in case that wasn’t her and she had actually sent Xander, after all… but… why go through all of this for that? He looked through the peephole and she was there. He wanted to open it and throw his arms around her, but what if she wasn’t alone? What if she had a syringe and the van was right around the corner? Oh God… He was doubting her. He was afraid now. Xander had won, in a way. He didn’t want to open the door. “Simon, are you in the apartment, or not?”

“How do I know that you aren’t coming here just to finally get rid of your stalker problem?”

“I guess you don’t know that anymore than I know if tomorrow morning, I’ll have a bigger stalker problem than I had yesterday. It's up to you whether you trust that I’m here to try to fix things or whether you break my trust and hurt my friends.” He opened the door and glanced up both hallways before stepping out, but she pushed passed him and went inside of the apartment. It was similar to the storage, but somehow more haunting in a home setting. Her face everywhere and all of the information and surveillance reorganized.  She sat on the couch with the Grace mannequin/doll.. Which was now more detailed than before and also now wearing clothes she’d left behind. She raised an eyebrow and shook her head. 

“I was never going to hurt you.”

“I know,” she said. 

“I… don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know why I did this. Why I took it so far.”

“I do.” 

He sat down between her and the mannequin, “Because I let you and I encouraged you. I wasn’t sure, but I surely had my thoughts and I liked them. I liked my thoughts of you being so into me that you would follow me around or watch me for a long time, even obsess over my photos and hang on my every word. I don’t know what the fuck love is supposed to look like, in a normal setting. I thought maybe that was one of those things… that this was how it was supposed to be if he was really into you and then, I indulged in the thought of somebody loving me and wanting to serve me, not because we had endured shit together, or because I pledged revenge in their name or I saved them, but just because I’m me. I wanted to be special. I’ve always wanted to be the love of somebody’s life. Even when I was little, before I… before the Apex…. The FIRST Apex, I never had the love that I craved and thirsted for. I suppose those years didn’t teach me much. Because I still managed to get inside of a pretty carriage with a nice man and head directly into disaster.”

“It's not your fault. You didn't ask for anything, and even if you wanted me to... I made a choice and you never knew for sure how far I took it all. But... Please tell me you don’t think that I’m so bad? As that man? That this disaster is like that one...” He looked like he might cry and she reflexively took his hand. They smiled at each other. He exhaled and squeezed her hand, “I found him,” he said.

“What?” she asked, laughing a little and confused about the random turn in the conversation. 

His face turned serious, and hers followed, matching the expression. “I  _ found _ him.” She was still confused, but suddenly apprehended by stress as Simon moved to grab an envelope much like the ones that she got from the flower shop, like the one that he gave Jalicia. He was saying words that didn’t make sense. Stuff like, “Outside of their territories, city limits, neighboring towns news,” and so on and as she pulled out a mugshot of a man who obviously had seen better days, a flood of emotions came rushing over her. This man in the photo, years older, and a lot of stress later, but it was undeniable. She had forgotten certain details, but her body had definitely remembered them in the trauma it stored. If she took off some years, added some money, and a big bright pinky ring, it was him. This was the man that took her. 

This was the man that stole her life and gave her this awful destiny that made it so hard for her to love… She looked at Simon, and he helped her flip through the pages, because she couldn’t. 

This man was arrested not too long after she disappeared, and whenever he got out, he went to a half way house and reentered society… all in a span of time before she ever got back home… He had moved on and lived past it while she had still been in it. The sound that erupted from her was terrifying, but Simon refused to react to it. Instead, he set the information aside and took her hands into his. 

“I was going to give it to them and try to lure you back to me, but whenever they threatened my mom, I,” he sounded ashamed to even admit it. “I chose her…” 

“They threatened your mom?” Grace asked. “God, Xander spiraled…”

“No, not him, the girlfriend.”

“Alexandria? She’s been out of the…” She stopped, seeing something regretful in his face. Her heart broke. “Sunny?”

“I didn’t know if she meant it, but I couldn’t take the chance. It wasn’t like she knew that I had this, but I wanted to avoid something happening to Mom. I love my mom.”

Grace shook her head, “She wouldn’t have, but, she might have let Xander, if he went for it. She’s… she wouldn’t have, but she didn’t tell me… She told me everything, I thought, but she left that part out. Would she have?”

“Xander making murder attempts, Sunny making immoral threats, do they even… still acknowledge you as their leader, or has the mission changed?” He asked. He wasn’t being manipulative, this time. He was actually very concerned. Because, if the Apex thought that Grace was turning on them… If they thought she was a threat to everything they’d built, or unfit to lead… if they thought that she was a danger to them all…

“I have to go…” She said, collecting the information and leaving the apartment. “Don’t follow me,” she said. “I mean it.”

“I’ve learned my lesson,” he said, choking down the anger of rejection and the disgust of her rushing into potentially dangerous arms with what he thought might be the most important thing she had ever been given in her life! 

Her eyes were soft upon him as she hugged the information to her chest. “Thank you, Simon.”

His anger was gone. He came over and gave her a hug. “You… remember our last Date Night, don’t you?”

She scoffed and laughed, “Duh. That romantic ass shit. Why?” 

“I just… hoped you had.” He smiled at his feet, “You didn’t tell them.”

“I mean, I didn’t tell them any of them. It would be easier to just tell them if the need arose, than to give them several to potentially stumble over. To be honest, it was a shame it was fake. That’s the kind of thing…” She bit her lip and now she looked at their shoes. “That was around the time that I knew how I felt about you.” She turned and left quickly, not offering how she felt. She… knew that he probably knew. He knew everything else about her.

.

_ Grace felt like an outsider here. Maybe it was the time she spent in the safe house, maybe it was the fact that two of these three people had kept secrets from her and tried to lie to her, whether in her personal interest, or theirs… she hated it, but she also would forgive them. They were held together by interweaving threads. Even if she didn’t fully trust them right now, what could she do? Do this shit without them? Unlikely. And there was the whole matter of Simon. She hadn’t seen him since she had been back. Sometimes, she thought that she felt him watching, but she was always too afraid to turn around to check. More afraid that he might not be there than the thought that he might.  _

_ The X was taking the trash out in the alley, the way he tended to do around this time at the place that he worked as a custodian. Sunny felt conflicted about it, since he hadn’t been a criminal in years. Jalicia felt like the group needed to heal before trying to do a job like this. Xander was willing to do anything to get into Grace’s… well… her good graces. Grace was out for blood and feeling betrayed that only Xander seemed as bloodthirsty about this as she did, and that even this seemed fabricated for her pleasure!  _

_ They had gone over Jalicia’s tactical plan, and it should have been a breeze to pick him up, but whenever Grace got out of the van and to wait and the van was still, in the darkness, the man was cautious. There were no businesses doing anything in the alley at this time of night and he knew that a van meant criminal activity. He didn’t want to get involved and tried to rush back in. Grace knew that the door would lock, so she rushed upon him and when she did, he was prepared and shot her right in the abdomen.  _

_ Should she have known to not rush him like that? Of course. Could she rationalize in the moment that she did? Not really. And whenever Xander started the van, Sunny opened the door to try to grab Grace, but the X was pointing the gun at the van now and Xander swerved out of panic and Sunny couldn’t catch hold of her. The other shots fired and Sunny screamed, unable to see behind the van, but presuming of course, that he finished Grace off, unless he had been firing at the van and simply missed every shot. She didn’t know what the hell had just happened, but Xander was still driving and crying, and not seeming to turn around and mow that motherfucker with this thing.  _

_. _

_ Simon was out of his car by the time she was shot, his own gun drawn and his heart racing as everything happened much too fast for him to save her from what happened. The first gunshot rang through the night and he watched Grace fall and the van start. They were going to leave her. OF COURSE they were. That’s what they DID. But, he wasn’t going to. He could hardly see the shadow moving and shot him first in the back of the neck, but once the body fell he advanced on him, continuing to fire into him until he emptied the gun and reached Grace. She was unresponsive. It was too dark. He could see a little bit, but the security lights on the outside of most of these buildings hadn’t been changed in a while and the nearest one only gave him a little, so he made sure that she knew it was him. He turned on the flashlight of his phone and found the wound to try to stop the bleeding. He was on the phone and writing something on her hand, and trying to hold it together, but he couldn’t. He was crying and confessing on the phone to having shot someone. They were thinking he meant that he shot the woman he was calling about, but he managed, “No. No… Not her… I love her. I shot him. I’m sure I killed him.”  _

_ He wasn’t crying because he killed someone, though maybe later, that would hit him harder. He was crying because all he had ever wanted to do was help her, save her, protect her, and it was his fault that she was dying in his arms. It was his fault… and she had just gone unconscious... _

  
  
  



	15. A Shot in the Dark Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upfront: It has been a long time since I’ve known somebody who got shot (well enough) to have the exact parameters of how the hospital etiquette is, so I’m basically going to tap into the last time, and since that was about a decade ago and also in my hometown, Idk how far off the way that they handle it is. I’ll try to fill in the spaces with how not as close associates have portrayed their experiences with similar crises and maybe pepper in a little imagination for flow of story. But, the main takeaway is that the chapter has a heavy police presence and I know that can be extremely difficult to digest for people.

He had been crying for most of the night. He wasn’t that adverse to crying. Physically, it was a good release for emotions that the brain was trying to process. He did wish that he could stop for longer than fifteen minutes here and there, but there was too much happening in his heart and mind. It had been two hours. The police had talked to him, then he had to wait for detectives, and they were a “good cop, bad cop” team that he would have expected only in a fictional work, and that was fitting, since none of this felt real. 

The way that Grace’s body shivered in his arms, then just… stopped moving. The way that she wasn’t breathing and he was too scared to let go of her wound to try to administer CPR… The way that he was convinced that he was watching the love of his life die in his arms and the fact that she had been in surgery for two hours and nobody but police and detectives would speak to him about anything, yet, nobody would try to contact her family, despite him repeating to them that she was Ambassador Monroe’s daughter…

3:48 am - At least they had contacted Sunetra. Apparently, she was Grace St. Catherine’s listed emergency contact. She and Xander showed up about an hour after Simon had been sitting there, with the police. Whenever they came in, both of them noticed him and he could see that Xander looked equal amounts of confused, angry, and scared. Sunny was less readable, only seeming to be curious, but rushed over to him, while the police tried to intercept her. “What happened?” she asked, over their shoulders. 

Simon stared at her, glanced at Xander, and even though everything in him wanted to say, “You left her to fucking die is what happened!” Instead, he said very softly, “Grace and I were on a date and she got shot…” Sunny had an emotional response. She began to let tears fall from her eyes, though the rest of her was unresponsive as the police gently guided her away, asking that she and Simon don’t talk.

Xander had a look of… realization and resignation. Simon was gonna cover for them again. He and Sunny could stick with the alibi that they would have used if Grace had been found dead in the alley… “Is she dead?” Xander asked, shaking and crying/

“Surgery…” Simon said, feeling… equal parts bad for him but still extremely pissed off. He knew that he cared, he did know that… but they just LEFT her. They left her to die, not knowing that Simon was there for her, to avenge her nor to save her. They had left her to die in an alley and would have just… moved on without her, like they’d done with Heath. He felt his own tears forming again, angry ones this time around and he wiped at them with his sleeve. _She deserved better._

At least now, he was ready to make his phone call. He just… didn’t want to potentially be arrested if Grace was gonna be alone. Hopefully, somebody would call her parents. She wasn’t close to them, but she loved them a lot, and they deserved to know where she was. She deserved to have them there for her. “Mom…”

“Simon? Baby, it’s 3 am, what in the world is going on?”

He sobbed and said, “Grace was shot..”

He heard the wind leave his mother like she’d just been hit. “Oh my God, Simon. Baby, I am so sorry. Where are you, I’ll come right down!”

“I’m at the hospital. The police want to talk to me. I’m scared that… That they’ll make me leave her here… that they might arrest me.” There was a pause, and he knew that she was trying to process something… “I was just trying to protect her. I killed somebody… He shot her and I…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. It wasn’t even the fact that he had done it, but telling his mother was… harder than he imagined when he mustered up the courage to call her.

“I’m gonna call the lawyer and come down there. What hospital?”

.

Simon wrote something on her hand. 

It's not the first thing that she noticed. That was the room. A hospital room. _What happened?_ For a moment, she didn’t even know who she was, much less where exactly she was and why, but her brain read her surroundings as a hospital room, and whatever happened, she felt very fuzzy headed and resolved not to say anything aloud until she could figure out more about what happened and why.

The second thing that she noticed was the badge.

It had a visceral and sobering affect on her. She thought about the ACAB button on her favorite canvas bag and her body felt actual elevated pain at even seeing the symbol - a symbol she hated and did not trust. The badge holder spoke, seeing that she was now awake, she mentally noted, not caring that she couldn’t POSSIBLY look like she was capable of holding a conversation, because she still was trying to figure out what happened. “Miss St. Catherine?”

“Monroe,” she groaned. _Bitch, was that YOUR voice?_ She wondered, hearing something that sounded gross and pained come out of her and feeling a tremendous strain as the word flowed from her lips, even as her mind told her not to say THAT. Monroe. She hadn’t used that name in years, but… her brain still automatically spat it out when addressed. “Ugh…” she finally remembered more. Monroe. That’s correct. She had parents and her last name, from them had been Monroe. It took her a while to push out her explanation - both energy and concentration that the badge holder allowed her to power through. “I’m the daughter of Gethsemane Monroe… and Ambrose! Ambrose Monroe. Call him… My father… I’m… hurting…”

The third thing that she noticed was her pain. You’d think it would be instant, but her brain spent so much energy trying to formulate words and connect them to thoughts of questions that she hadn’t. But, by God, now she did.

“You’ve gotten medical attention, but we will contact your parents.”

“Cool. They’ll call the family lawyer.”

“You think that you need a lawyer?”

“I _don’t_ think that you should talk to me in my condition. Can hardly think, and I’m in pain. I’ve…” _I’ve been shot! THAT’S what happened._ She remembered. Her blood pressure spiked at this realization. “Simon!” Her voice was stronger, in her panic and she moved quite violently, only to realize that she was handcuffed to the hospital bed. Both her wrist and her gsw hurt in that moment and she laid down, breathing hard and holding herself with her free hand.

“Simon Laurent?” The badge holder had been unmoved by her sudden jolt, and unphased by her obvious pain. 

“I hope that whatever is in this IV doesn’t make me forget that you’re trying to talk to me in my condition, after the fact that I asked for my lawyer. I hope that they have a lot to say about me being chained to this bed after getting shot.”

The doctor had arrived to check on her and the detective ducked out, with Grace glaring at him. They brought her blood pressure down, gave her more pain medicine and spoke to her about her injuries and procedures. “Am I going to make it?”

“I think so. Good thing that your friend was there.”

“Simon! Is _he_ okay?” her pulse shot up. 

“Please try to remain calm, Miss St. Catherine. He wasn’t harmed.” She sighed and rested against the pillow. _That wasn’t what I asked…_ But, _that_ was when she noticed it:

 _“Remember our last date night! XOXO Simon”_ The doctor left the room as she stared at the sloppily written message, knowing that even though it looked shaky and/or rushed that it was Simon’s handwriting and he MUST have written it while she was injured… she knew this was an important message. _Our last date night? Like… last date-date, date night or last “date night” date night? No… not our last date. There’s nothing special about that._ He had recently asked her about their “last date night,” so she knew that must have been what he meant. _Remember our last date night! XOXO Simon…_

She knew what she needed to do. She waited, trying to breathe and meditate, silently hoping and wishing that she knew Simon as well as she knew that he knew her. She looked at the clock in the room. 4:14 am.

.

4:58 am, a VERY handsome couple stormed into the hospital and Simon recognized them immediately. Even if he had never seen the photos, Grace was the spitting image of her mother - the woman didn’t even look old enough to have a daughter her age. They could easily pass for sisters, and with a slight variation of her skin tone and hair texture, they had the exact same face, build, and body language. (Though, Grace's body language most likely mimicked her mom's to pass for normalcy) Her father was… clearly rich, because that woman was definitely out of his league and his style was more of a conservative fashion than the clearly purposely fashionable wife, but that was an earlier thought Simon had… not necessarily one he had on this night. 

The man was slamming his finger onto the counter and speaking very sternly to the poor lady at the desk. Whatever was happening wasn’t her fault, but Simon figured the police had been just as shitty with them as they’d been with him the past couple of hours. The woman turned and noticed him. She came over and his mother took his hand and intertwined their fingers, seemingly to give him strength. They weren’t sure WHAT Grace’s mother was going to say.

“You’re Grace’s boyfriend,” she said. Simon… knew that Grace said her mom was English, but hearing that voice come out of “Grace’s face” was a bit shocking at first. He nodded his head. If Grace hadn’t announced that they had broken up, this wasn’t the time to. Maybe she also hadn’t mentioned that she’d rushed off because he was stalking her. “Do you know what happened?” She wondered.

The police were a lot more accommodating with allowing her to talk to him than they had been with Sunny and Xander, who were also in the waiting room, with officers beside them, and had been presumably questioned when they’d been guided to the detectives earlier. Simon glanced at them and he saw that the police were staring at him, waiting for him to finally say something. If he wasn’t going to answer them, he would maybe answer this woman. He squeezed his mother’s hand and let himself tell her. “Somebody attacked Grace. She was shot,” he pointed to where. “She’s been in surgery. They won’t say more. The man that shot her… He was somebody… that she _knew…_ from her past, I think,” he said, tilting his head, hoping that Mrs. Monroe would catch what he meant. She stumbled, ever so slightly, letting him know that she indeed did get it. “I killed him,” Simon said. It was more of a proud declaration than anything else. The woman looked… relieved. Simon didn’t know if he was imagining that for his own ego, or if he was simply too disoriented to note things properly. But soon, the doctor approached Grace’s parents and they rushed down the hallway with him. _She’s alive. She’s okay…_ Simon felt himself take the first relieved breath that he’d had in hours.

.

5:17 am. Outside of her room, she could hear her parents fussing with someone. The other voice wasn’t very familiar, but she ultimately gathered that it was that badge that had been in earlier. He had a hard voice, which, although he was speaking in a low voice, it cut through the wall and sounded very sinister as he told her parents that she couldn’t receive visitors until they figured out what happened in that alley. An accent of “the Queen’s people,” Grace considered it. She wasn’t that great at telling a lot of those accents apart, and found out that people snobbishly point out that their accents are special. Their accents are different. If they had the Queen listed whenever she looked them up online, she just threw it in a bucket. It was an effort on her part NOT to think about linguistics. In fact, she furrowed her brows that she was thinking about it so naturally just from hearing an Australian accent through a door.  _ Damn it.  _

Her father spoke about the constitution, warned the dick that he  _ knew  _ the law, and her mother insisted that he was incompetent, subhuman, and corrupt. The door opened and the man returned, leaving her parents outside. 

“Miss Monroe, or Miss St. Catherine, or whoever you wish to be called these days. Your parents have been alerted and they want to see you. Your boyfriend is out there, speaking to my partner. If you want to get your side out, I would suggest that you do so now.”

She frowned.  _ Her side?  _ Simon wasn’t telling on her. He wouldn’t. She looked at the note on her hand.  _ This cop is trying to get under your skin, Grace.  _

“People sure do seem to die around you a lot. Hopefully, he'll realize that sooner, rather than later." He adjusted her blanket and smirked, his icy blue eyes seemingly having nothing human behind them as he covered up her still cuffed arm. "But, maybe I'm misunderstanding the facts. Maybe it's  _ not  _ what it looks like. Maybe you  _ weren't  _ trying to attack someone when they shot you in self defense, only to be murdered moments later by some poor fool under your spell."

Now, Grace smirked, but she was in enough pain that it could be mistaken for a wince, if Mace wasn't so receptive. "Yes. You ARE wrong."

"Explain it to me. Simon's certainly explaining it to my partner."

.

Sieve: Just explain to me what happened

Simon: Is Grace okay?

Sieve: Whatever you know, it could only help her.

Simon: _ (Sighs)  _ I've already told the police and I also told you and your partner. That guy shot her and I shot him. He attacked, I reacted.

Sieve: What led up to it?

Simon: It happened really fast.

Sieve: Start from when you first saw him. We’ve got time. 

Simon: Ummm… he seemed to come out of nowhere to me I don't know. 

Grace: I spotted him throwing the trash out back there and I recognized him. I thought he might not recognize me, but if he did... I... Didn't want Simon to know. _ (Lowers her eyes to the note on her palm. Clenches her fist.)  _ He doesn't know about my past. I didn't want him to know that I was... Product... And I certainly never expected to run into the man who had turned me into product…

Sieve: Did she say who this man was?

Simon: No... She... _ (Taps into Grace's personality. ‘If I were brainstorming the actions of a character like Grace, how would I outline her response to this line of questioning?’)  _ She seemed paranoid. Secretive. I didn't know him, but I had a feeling that she didn't want me to, so I tried to give her space. I gave them too much of it…

Grace: I tried to get some distance between Simon and I to get a closer look at the guy. It was dark and I didn't know if my past was playing tricks on my mind. It's been almost 15 years now… I didn't really believe myself to be seeing him again, especially in such a random place as this alley.

Mace: But it was him?

Grace:  _ (nods head) _ It was dark. I was walking up on him and I asked him a question about that day. Are you the nice man with the pinky ring in the white limousine? I asked it out loud before I could stop myself or formulate a more tactful way to handle it.

Mace: And then what?

Grace:  _ (Looks into his eyes)  _ And then he shot me.

Simon: I don't KNOW what she said. I don't know what happened. It was dark and they were a little ways away from me. From what I COULD figure, he seemed to be trying to kill her. I simply reacted.

Sieve: By emptying your gun into him?

Simon: That's… that's how I practice at the range. I've been practicing a lot. I'm a pretty good shot. I just... Went into my practice mode. He was running, but I imagined the firing range targets when they move forward.

Sieve: He was running towards you?

Simon:  _ (Pauses) _ No.. the other direction.

Sieve: So, you admit that he was running away when you killed him.

Simon: I… never _denied_ that he was running away… _AFTER_ he tried to _kill_ Grace. _(Hands shaking in anger and frustration)_

Sieve: But, instead of self defense, as you claimed, this sounds like revenge for shooting your girlfriend.

Simon: If you could only be self-aware enough to realize how absurd that is coming from the police. You all shoot people all the time out of fear. Unarmed people who aren't even being violent. This monster shot at us!

Sieve: At her. After she rushed up to him in the dark, in presumably a confrontational manner.

Simon: Why do you presume that?

Sieve: It sounds like your girlfriend rushed upon this man, if it happened so quickly that you can’t form how exactly it did happen. How far away would you say you were from him?

Simon:  _ (Flares nostrils) _ I didn't measure.

Sieve:  _ (More pensievely than accusatory) _ But, in the dark, with him moving in the opposite direction, you were a very precise shot. It was not well lit, he was an unknown distance away. Your girlfriend was probably on the ground by then. All on short notice, and in a random alley behind this man’s job. You hit him with every bullet in your gun. You didn't miss at all, and still had time to apply pressure to the wound and call 911. 

Simon: I’m a quick thinker and I've been practicing.

Mace: So, the victim…

Grace: Me?

Mace: The _ murder _ victim.

Grace: The attempted murderer.

Mace: Had ties to someone you knew. Someone we spoke about before. Heath Farmer.

Grace:  _ (Pulse accelerates. Face becomes firm) _ I don't believe that.

Mace: The night that Farmer died, he had been a part of a b&e, two of the culprits escaped. The homeowner didn't get a good look at them, but noted that they were all dressed alike and wearing masks. Some time later, a man was taken from his home, not to be seen again. His wife, who hadn't been on the scene when Farmer died, described the kidnappers in a similar fashion as Farmer had been dressed that night. Same exact clothing that was removed from your person for surgery.

Grace: _ (Unbothered)  _ Sounds like they were stylish.

Mace: 148. That's what you told the police whenever you were initially arrested for beating a girl almost to death. 

Grace: A gang member who murdered a small child that police failed to protect.

Mace: Heath Farmer once had a number too, and I'm sure that if I were to go through all of your friends, I would find more numbers. More members of your gang. More murderers…

Grace:  _ I'm  _ sure that you’ll find that there is no type of evidence to indicate that _ I _ have murdered anybody, anywhere. The only thing that you have is the word of someone who described an outfit of some people who maybe tapped into a description that her husband gave her when he spoke about work.

Mace: I never mentioned anything about his work.

Grace: You mentioned that the wife’s description matched Heath's death at his murder scene. Either somebody let a civilian on the premises during an investigation, or the woman's husband was on the scene for work, since she was not, as you were happy to inform me. _ (Bats her eyes) _

Mace:  _ (Glares)  _ You were able to pin numerous murders on so-called stewards, who wore all black clothes masks to cover their identities, and yet, in several disappearances over the past couple of years, we find the symbol associated with your old gang. The one that you got away with acts of violence by being rich and pretending to be crazy. Several of those same kids who were on the streets were there for a year while you were allowed to sit in a room, dance and draw pictures with crayons. Maybe the ringleader felt bad for abandoning them. Maybe these people who are disappearing are doing so because the princess has decided.

Grace: This is inappropriate. The detective.

Mace: Why would you and Farmer have matching outfits and be near people associated with the old Apex in the middle of the night? More than one occasion, and it be exactly the same as what the witness saw when her husband was taken?

Grace: My date with Simon was after practice last night, and Heath must have stopped by that man’s house on his way _ to _ practice that night.

Mace: Practice?

Grace:  _ (Deadpan) _ We have a dance crew. _ (Stare at each other) _ You can verify it with the Infinity Train Foundation Center. Sometimes we practice there and most of our performances have been there. For the kids.

Mace: You never said that you had practice on the night of his death.  _ (Smirks) _

Grace: I said that we cancelled some plans to hang out with Simon. Those plans were practice that night. My other friends wanted to size him up and Heath didn't make it to the little meet and greet. Maybe he was as unfortunate as me. Maybe he saw somebody that he just couldn’t stand not to address. Maybe that’s why he was killed, as opposed to wounded or apprehended for questioning. Sure would have made your job easier than this plot of yours to give me details of the investigation. You might think that you’re programming me to know stuff that I’m not supposed to know so that later that knowledge can be used against me, but I promise, I’m not as stupid as you think.

Mace:  _ (Fumes in frustration as Grace stares at him, emotionless) _

Grace: Are you on the take? Is that why you’re so passionately trying to pin cold blooded murder on an internationally recognized children’s book series author?

Mace: Maybe it’s him who’s in your pocket. Unfortunate young man who brings joy to children is a good, strong alibi for a murderous former gang member and child prostitute…

Grace: (Spits in his face) 

“Book me for assault for that if you want to, but you don’t have SHIT else on me,” she hissed. “I can’t wait to tell my lawyer what you just said to an injured SURVIVOR of child trafficking, homelessness and the subsequent street violence brought on by aforementioned abuse. I’m a recovery success story, philanthropist, child welfare advocate, and payer of so many taxes… The way that my dad and the DA might as well be fucking each other, they’re so close, and you take my physically and mentally traumatized body, cuff it to a bed while I’m striuggling for my life, and question and accuse me while I’m under medication... I feel like… You should take a look in the mirror and ask yourself, ``Do you want to fight me?” He wiped his face with her blanket, uncuffed her and left the room.

Her parents were speaking with her lawyer whenever he came out. “Going to take Mr. Laurent to the station for more questioning,” he said.

“What?” Mrs. Laurent wondered, walking up with coffee for Mrs. Monroe that she had gone to fetch while waiting for Simon to finish speaking with the other detective. “Simon already told us all that he did what he did in self defense!” 

“Other things have come to light, namely that the murder victim…”

“The assailant who tried to kill my daughter,” Mrs. Monroe corrected, infuriating him as well as her daughter had.

“WAS affiliated with the organisation that disbanded and became known as the street gang that your daughter was part of…”

Mrs. Laurent gasped. “Street gang? What are you talking about?”

“What he’s talking about is something that he has no legal RIGHT to talk about and now you’ve just slandered my daughter to a woman who only knows her after her terribly haunting childhood of being forced into a life of crime.” Mrs. Laurent’s eyes were already red from crying, and now they were simply confused, as well. “Mrs. Laurent… Our legal team already has representatives here on behalf of Grace. I’m more than happy to extend their services to Simon, as well.”

“I don’t know that we can afford something like that…” the woman said. 

Mrs. Monroe doubted that Simon would have a problem with good legal representation, as she definitely already researched his net worth, but it was true that he didn’t have a team like the one that they did. “Don’t be silly. Our children come first, and it's clear that they are under attack right now. Why else would we be even be entertaining the notion that two beloved pillars of the community are somehow orchestrating a conspiracy theory to…” she gave Mace a look, “What were the claims? Killing a child trafficking gang member?” She finally took her coffee from Mrs. Laurent’s shaking hand, blew on it and took a sip, staring at Detective Mace, for dramatic effect.

It burned her tongue, but she didn’t flinch. 

Sieve came from the room that he had been allowed to use in order to speak with Simon and he and Mace touched base, going over the discussions. Simon hugged his mother and Mrs. Monroe stared at the detectives. Her husband approached with the DA on his cell phone to speak with Mace. They watched as he stammered and tried to explain things, then he handed the phone back and punctuated with conversation (pointed at Simon), with, “We’ll be in touch if further questioning comes about. At this moment, no charges will be filed.”

Simon’s eyes smiled and he politely said, “Thank you so much, for everything that you do to keep citizens safe.” Mace knew he was being sarcastic, though there was nothing to prove it and the Monroes had just made it clear that this entire lot would be a unified effort. In fact, the woman was rubbing Simon’s back and talking kindly to him while his mother offered him her coffee cup. Mace left angrily. Sieve seemed less upset, but he always was. 

The police were going to stay around for a while, and Grace was only allowed 3 visitors at a time. First, she saw her parents and the lawyer. Then, she saw Sunny, Xander, and Jalicia had come in too, by then. Then, her mom brought Mrs. Laurent in and the woman was trying to be very strong about having had it sprung on her this morning about Grace’s past and the entire situation with the police and things. Grace was extremely tired by the time that Simon finally got around to coming in. So tired, that she only saw his face, smiled, held his hand and fell to sleep, with him and the clock watching over her. 8:41 am.


	16. I Trust Him With My Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been thinking about nothing but this story all week, so I finally decided to wrap up this chapter.

The smell of flowers stirred her up. Flowers, coffee… and… books? She must have been dreaming, as those were a few of her favorite things. Her eyelids fluttered and she opened her eyes to see a few fuzzy images - Sunny and Simon in her hospital room, both with a book in front of them, but neither reading. Instead, they had been bickering softly and now, they were watching her, but neither of them moved.

See, Grace had done this several times in the days following her surgery - fluttered her eyes, even opened them, only to lose consciousness again a few moments later and well, after a while, they stopped rushing to her bed. But, this time, the eyes were focusing on them and didn’t appear to be closing. “It’s happening,” Sunny said, shutting her book and getting up. Simon waited, though. 

Grace took a deep, pained breath and looked at her hand. His note was still there. For a moment, she smiled a little, and then she remembered all over again that she had been shot. She gasped and reached for her wound, then winced in pain when she moved. 

Simon shut his book now, too and set it aside and rushed to help Sunny adjust the pillows beneath Grace’s body. He grabbed a thermos and told her, “Doctor said that you could have a little coffee, so I picked up your favorite kind from the bookstore, some books from your yearly goal list… And flowers from your florist. Everybody ws really helpful and sent their love and their get well things.”

She turned around to look and noticed the warm colored vibrant assortment of flowers. “Thank. Goodness. You didn’t get red poppies again.”

Sunny tilted her head and looked at Simon, “You got red poppies? Why on earth did you get red poppies?”

“I saw her with them before, so I thought that she liked them.”

Sunny winced.  _ Saw her.  _ She knew exactly what that meant. Whenever he was  _ stalking  _ her and either was too insecure or she didn't strike him as interested enough, he spied on her and misunderstood something that they used to mourn. 

_ 'Flower Boy' Heath used to steal them from stores and gardens whenever they lost somebody on the streets. He'd seen them at his father's funeral when he was little, and told his mom that they were super pretty. Why was she crying so much when so many people were at his Daddy's Going Home Celebration, and who could cry while such pretty flowers were everywhere? “That only had made her cry harder,” Heath would tell whoever was asking about why he stole flowers for dead friends. "I didn't get it. Death isn't pretty. It's cold, sad, and lonely. That’s why she was crying. But my dad embraced his death whenever he signed up for the military, and I like to think he met it with a brave heart and courageous mind. I'd like to think that we all will meet it that way. I don't like to cry about it. Instead, pay respects." And, he sort of… kept that tradition up over the years and spread it to his friends.  _

_ Whenever they went to pay their respects, they did so with red poppies, in memory of their friends. Most of them didn't even like to see red poppies any other time, because they were flowers they had associated with deceased friends for many years.  _

Sunny shuddered at what Grace must have felt when this boy handed her some of those damn flowers… “You’ve… researched them since then though, right?" She wondered. 

“I have.” He leaned next to Grace on the bed and offered her a little smile, “I hope I've done well this time.”

But, she wasn’t looking at the red, orange and gold arrangement as she cooed, “You were amazing.” He blushed. Sunny rolled her eyes off to the side, out of both their view. 

Simon rubbed the back of his neck and smiled, “I did what anybody who cared about you would do.” 

“Who’d have thought that I, of all people would need a white knight?”

He scoffed, “That’s not what happened at all. You’re a warrior queen, who just so happened to need a general in that moment, when your… Court fled . May I just say this? I really think that you should reconsider the policy of leaving each other to die in the event of a life threatening injury.”

“Simon…”

“Grace…”

“One fallen soldier can’t compromise the entire troop.”

“You’re not some fallen soldier, Grace.” He looked very serious for a moment, as his fingertips seemed to ache to touch her, but he denied himself that. 

They had a lot to go over before he could touch her again. There had been some betrayal, invasion of privacy, abandonment, and general toxicity between them. Sure, he saved her life. He loved her, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that wasn’t just going to fix everything that had occurred between the two of them. 

Even if just this once, his obsession worked out in her favor; she had been upset by initially finding out the extent to which he had been following and watching her and he had not come through with a justification for this. Nor could he think of one, and as much as she wanted to trust him again and to love him openly, he knew that would always be in her mind. But, she was not "one fallen soldier."

“When we’re out there, yes I am.” She seemed to think that was the end of it.

He fumed, “I refuse to accept that.”

She frowned and looked down at her body, “Hardly matters now. I won’t soon be back in the field.” 

“You deserve a break,” Sunny chimed in. Grace and Simon both looked at her, like they had only just remembered that she was still there.

“The fact that the X gets a proper sending off instead of a sentence in the Field of Nulls makes me want to  _ break _ something…”

“Everyone needs a break,” Simon said, turning his attention back to Grace. “That detective definitely is suspicious of us. I think that they’ll be watching, waiting, and pounce on anything we do.”

“We?” Sunny said, and scoffed a little, before looking at Grace with a confused expression.

“We.” Grace and Simon both said it at the same time, then smiled slightly at each other. Grace turned to Sunny and said, “I know that we don’t usually allow outsiders with us, but considering the circumstances - how Simon has helped us over the past few months and him literally saving my life, I think that as the leader, it’s my responsibility to make sure that he’s taken care of, just like the rest of us.”

“You trust this O as an ally?”

Grace voice was stern. “His name is Simon, and I trust him with my life.” Grace reached for Simon's hand and his entire countenance shined as their fingers met, testing each other's tips before sliding into place, woven together. Sunny stared at their hands and quickly went through a range of expressions as she tried to access what the appropriate reaction was to this. Uncertain, she forced a smile and bid them farewell. She had no idea how she might present this change to the group, but she at least knew that she would have to speak to Xander, immediately.

.

Grace had bigger changes on the horizon. For one, Her parents put her up in their guest house for her recovery, with a nurse on hand, and Simon was the only person who visited her every day. She forbade everyone to come to the guest house while she was in this state, but as per use, Simon didn’t respect that request, and she wasn’t going to tell her parents about their… questionable beginnings, so she decided that it was easier to just let him come around whenever he pleased, as she wasn’t in any condition to fight with him. She wasn’t even in condition to walk. She would do the minimum recommended to keep her from getting blood clots, and the rest of the time, she spent in a chair. Simon was there every moment that he could be and became her only real contact for the moment. 

Grace tried to be flippant with him, to ignore him at times and even snap on him to get him to back off and leave her, but it didn’t prove to be working and she only felt bad later, when she realized that she was hurting him for nothing. Simon wasn’t about to turn his back on her. She would have to break some type of key rule for that to happen, and why did she want him to leave so badly, anyway? Why was she so committed to pushing everyone away and withering in this place with a hole in her body? 

What was making her feel so alone and detached? What was making her accept that feeling and embrace it? She had nightmares every night, but now, she would wake up in a frenzy AND in physical pain. Simon would wake up too, do everything in his power to help her calm down and get some more sleep, to help her address her wound and get some pain relief… to help her feel cared for, and safe, and not alone… It didn’t feel fair to her. It felt… like she had taken a lot from this person and was still taking from him. The worst part was that she felt like she needed to take more. She couldn’t do this alone.

Whenever Simon woke up in the morning, Grace wasn’t in bed. He furrowed his eyebrows, looked at the openness of the windows of the guesthouse bedroom, and noticed that her chair was gone. 

Whenever he found her, she was in her meditation garden, sitting with her feet in the dirt and Samantha and Hazel were both with her, eating the kinds of grasses they liked. She had been mindful to make sure there was stuff that they could eat there and added more that she felt that they might want to try. Simon was going to leave, but she sensed him coming and turned suddenly, of course, hurting herself as she did. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you…” He looked around, “Where is your chair?” 

“THE chair,” she corrected (not her chair, she hated that thing), “Is in the lake.” Simon looked towards the lake that her parents’ estate was near. It was close enough for him to walk, but it was further than Grace tended to walk in her condition. Still… if she was frustrated and determined enough… maybe. He went to check. It was… near the lake, but not in it. He went to retrieve it and realized it was stuck on some rocks. Just as well. Sure, Grace’s parents could afford replacing anything, but replacing something that was perfectly fine felt wrong. Especially because she needed it all the time.

The last time Grace tried to walk further than usual, she became lightheaded, lost her balance, tripped, fell, vomited and angry cried that she had such a bad reaction to pushing herself beyond reasonable limits. Then, she was upset and didn’t want him to help her, but had to let him because she just… couldn’t. She locked him out of the guest house. He camped out on the veranda and worked on a new story. 

After three days, she unlocked the door and when he came in to check on her, she told him he smelled bad and needed a shower. After the shower, she began talking about art and wouldn’t let him get a word in to ask her about her feelings. Since then, Simon noted that she didn’t let him see her out of the chair and he presumed that she was too worried about another situation where she would look weak or get sick - so the fact that she had both rolled her wheelchair down this hill and went elsewhere was hard to believe and a little bit troubling. She was clearly having one of the episodes that had come along with her injury. They were exhausting, but Simon at least felt needed whenever she had them. The more that she insisted that she didn’t need him was usually the more that she did. 

He dragged the wheel back to the garden, wondering if maybe it had gotten stuck and she didn’t have the strength to pull it up, therefore presumed it rolled into the lake, or if she was so disgusted with it today and that tried to send it splashing into the lake and it got stuck instead. At any rate, she looked like she didn’t want to talk about it and she was at peace for the moment, so he just put it where it usually sat when she was in this little garden. He noticed some damages that were probably brought on by her beating the thing with a weapon, as she was known (by anybody who watched her obsessively) to do. He figured he could fix it. In the meantime, she had a stick that she was calling a cane and she was using that to help her around. 

“Good news! It didn’t go into the lake.”

“Yayyy…” She said sarcastically and scooped up Hazel. She grabbed her “cane” and began to walk back towards the guest house. Samantha followed behind her and Simon came in with the chair. Just that walk made Grace tired and she set Hazel down on the floor and went to wash up and check her wound. When it came time that she needed help, she cried as quietly as she could, and heard Simon knock softly. Of course he was right outside waiting for her to need him. 

“Come in,” she said and they didn’t talk about what went wrong or the fact that she absolutely was doing too much and that was why she needed help getting out of the bath and into her clothes right now. They just… went with it. The first couple of times had been a little awkward, but Simon was very mission oriented and rarely made her feel the way that he knew that she felt. 

She was trying to get comfortable, but there weren’t many options on that front. Having actively avoided guns for years, she had never known the extent of the damage that they could do. She’d seen gun violence, but it had been shoot to kill situations and as far as she knew, those who survived, she never talked to about these things OTHER THAN the burning hole in the flesh. The tissue, muscle, and bone damage one little bullet could cause when ejected from such a dangerous little contraption. She had been terrified of them after Todd’s execution. The PTSD of seeing that flooded over her after Heath’s. But THIS, she figured that even if her body ever went back to some semblance of normal, her brain never would. 

_ Why couldn't she be as desensitized to gunshots as she was to murdering Xs? _ She felt like that should haunt her more, but it never had. The stewards were never real people. They were, but they weren’t. They forfeited their humanity when they dehumanized the children that they stole, bought and sold. But those children, in her mind, would always be human. Nothing that any of those Apex kids could ever do to strip them of the humanity they fought tooth and nail to reclaim after being product, and when they bled and died, it was tragedy. She didn’t want to feel sorry for herself, but the fact that the man who introduced her to such a hard reality was able to injure her felt like injustice. It was an insult added to the injuries from a universe that seemed to hate her… and her friends had turned against her, too. Those were the thoughts that she let lull her to sleep.

Whenever she had gotten into bed, he was reluctant to leave her by herself. The next day, he would move some of his things in. Fortunately, he always had a couple of weeks worth of things in his car, waiting for when he needed them here. He brought everything he had in the car in whenever she went to sleep and began to personalize the spaces that he usually occupied whenever he was over. 

Grace noticed the next day, and he could have sworn he saw a little sparkle in her eyes whenever she did. She didn’t comment about it beyond, “Somebody’s getting comfy.”

.

Grace still didn’t  _ completely  _ feel that her Apex family could be trusted. After everything that went down behind her back while she was in Canada, she was still in the mindset that she didn’t know what any of them were thinking. 

She often woke up crying, admittedly, because of the thoughts she allowed to settle in her mind before she went to sleep. It was all so, so… exhausting to face. She wanted to have something to center her thoughts, if nothing could take them away, and all that would happen was she would push them out of her reach until she was too tired to move, then they would all just trickle back down and engulf her, more powerfully than before. Hearing her cry, Simon stirred she shuffled away from him, trying to get out of bed and away from him before she woke him up too. She was nearly there when she felt his hand catch her wrist. She gasped and looked at him. He was holding her a little too tight and even in just moonlight, she could see his features, though she couldn’t tell what kind of expression he wore. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said. He let go and turned over on his other side. That was… odd, but maybe he was just not fully conscious. 

She went into the bathroom and stared into the mirror for longer than she planned. Not crying or thinking about hardships, just noting her features. 

Eventually, his soft knock came on the door. She cracked it open and saw him, concerned and fully awake now. “Do you need anything?” He wondered. Meanwhile, Samantha crept through the opening and climbed on the sink, to look at herself, too. Grace collected her and handed her to Simon.

“I just wanted some time to myself.”

He looked hurt, but he said, “Okay. Want us to go home?” She bit her lip and looked off to her thoughts. She was weighing what that would mean. She would have some alone time, but she still would be restless and more than likely, Simon probably had cameras in this place, too. He wouldn’t go home. He’d probably go to the apartment and keep watch. Even if he did go home, she would presume that he was in the apartment watching her, and that would be worse than him being here. 

“Do you have cameras in here?” she finally asked. She turned and stared at him, bracing herself on the sink. He froze and was holding Samantha a little too tightly. To the point that she screeched and hopped out of his grasp and rushed into hiding. Grace’s face softened and she came closer, cooing, “Hey. It’s okay. I get it. Your love language is a little bit different than what a lot of us are used to. It’s not like you spend every moment of every day in front of those cameras. But, here’s the thing, Simon…” He stared at her, being mindful of every word that she was saying, grateful that her reaction wasn’t anger… because truth be told, he really shouldn’t have brought cameras in here and he really didn’t mean to, but she was injured and she wasn’t in the best headspace. Keeping an eye on her was crucial! Sure, he had an excuse for every time he wanted to spy on her, but this was different. This really was different and he felt honored that she wasn’t going to fight him on it. “I need some real and true alone time. Not very long, but long enough for me to work some things out. So, how about this? I’ll go to your house tonight and you stay here. That way, I can get some rest in a familiar space and you can be away from your surveillance station.”

“That won’t work.”  _ Just agree to it!  _ “I have access to my cameras here and I have cameras in my house..”  _ Why would you make this harder?  _

“If you tell me that you won’t look at them, I’ll believe you.”

_ Just agree to that!  _ “I can’t tell you that. I’d be lying. If you’re in a house that size, by yourself, with this injury and your stubbornness to take the proper care of yourself, how can I not check in?” She looked angry. “I’m not going to lie to you, Grace. I mean… not on purpose… Not this way.”  _ This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up…………………………  _ “I can’t let you get hurt again.” He started crying and stepped back, to leave and give her some space. She found him on the stairs, getting into his shoes and sniffling. 

“What makes you feel like you’ve gotta keep me from getting hurt, Simon?”

He blinked away some tears and shook his head, “The reason that I gave myself for ever resorting to cameras was because I needed to make sure that you had proper support. I told myself it was for your safety, and if I enjoyed it along the way, well, that was simply a nice reward for making sure you were protected. And… I didn’t even protect you. You were self isolating, your friends alienated you, and you were so in your own head from this X that I brought you that you weren’t thinking clearly. I should have been there with you, not lurking in the shadows, and not waiting until it got bad. I should have did the thinking. I should have plotted something out. I knew that your team was shaky and I knew that you were rusty from your hiatus. I should have done more. I’m not gonna do that again. I’m not talking myself out of what makes sense to me just to get nuggets of satisfaction and crumbs of pleasure.”

She sat next to him on the stairs and placed her hands over his, making him stop with the shoes. He looked at her and she was just looking at his feet, unable to make eye contact just yet. “I made promises too. I made promises to about a thousand kids, and in the past few years, I’ve only made good on a few dozen. I’m at a point in life where… I don’t think I will make good on all those promises. I don’t think that I can. So, I get it. I understand how stressful it can be to take up things and be expected to handle them. But, Simon…” She finally looked up at him, “You made that promise to yourself. We’re the easiest people for us to lie to. Because, if we don’t reach our goals, we know what it takes to forgive us. We aren’t constantly battling for acceptance from ourselves the way that we do for others. So, maybe you didn’t do what you intended to, what you promised yourself that you would do, but you did more than you should have, and to be honest, you might not have protected me - which is already a fool’s errand - but you fucking saved me.

When I went down, my thought was - this is it. I’m dead. I knew that they would leave, as is the procedure, and I knew that I would die there…. Then, I didn’t. Because of you. You don’t owe me anything else. You don’t owe yourself anything else. Some things are just out of our control.”

“Is that the advice that you’re giving yourself about those thousand promises you made?” She pulled him towards her by the hand and wrapped him around herself like a sweater. “Because, if it applies to me, it definitely applies to you. You never did anything to hurt those kids, and the moment that you were able, you tried to. You deserve to never have to think about it, ever again.”

“They deserve something. If not justice, vengeance, if not vengeance, closure, if not closure, compensation, but they deserve SOMETHING for the years that not only the stewards took, but the ones that I took. Why… why didn’t we just disband? Why did I think that when the stewards were gone, that meant that it was up to me to lead them?”

“Because you were a kid and the past previous years had changed you in ways that children shouldn’t have to be changed.”

“If they had gone elsewhere when the warehouse fell, instead of staying with me… Todd would never have been killed. His parents wanted him back. If I had brought him to a cop or something, he might have been able to go back to them. He would be getting ready to go to college. Jalicia would have probably been able to go to real school early enough to actually KNOW material. Alexandria would have had art teachers through school and probably went to art school, like she wanted to… Xander wouldn’t have tried so many drugs…”

“You don’t know those things. You don’t know if any of that is true.”

“Anything had to be better than living on an abandoned train with me for years and then me vanishing for a year, leaving even more of them confused. Some of them left then, found homes, or were picked up and placed. Fortunately, they got Lucy and Lindsay out pretty early. But, a lot of them just deferred to Xander, and when he was unable, they deferred to Sunny. I had to come back and tell all of these kids that I was wrong, that we had been doing things in a misinformed way and I couldn’t even be there with them to help them figure out their own paths. I failed them all, and myself, and the one thing that I agreed to do to make it right, to give them SOMETHING for everything that I got wrong for them… That’s been cut short.” 

Simon wrapped his arms tightly around her. “I’ll help you. I’ll do whatever needs to be done to get this burden off of your heart…”

.

The group knew that they wouldn’t be going on any missions any time soon, but while on hiatus from hunting Xs, Simon’s ultimate goal was to make them all the best that he could make them at their responsibilities. Simon had been entrusted with touching base with each member of Grace’s “court,” so to speak, in order to help them better do the things that they were tasked to do.

The first day that he walked in, they had been texted by Grace of the when and where to meet - the bungalow, at a specified time, but they had not been briefed that Simon would be there, nor that Grace would not be. So, whenever he entered the bungalow, with a key they all stared at him for a moment, expecting maybe Grace was right behind him (as they had known that she was shacked up with him), but Simon went directly into speaking, “Okay, so tonight is gonna be short and simple. I’m sending out the training schedules and drill runs for the next month, and answering whatever pertinent questions you may have about the operation so affectionately called Date Night. I intended to have something like a syllabus prepared, but Grace has been having some trouble sleeping, making that our top priority during this portion of her recovery process…” He looked over at Jalicia, who had her hand raised. “Is that what we do? We raise hands to speak?” They all just looked at each other, except for Sunny. She was still staring at Simon and the key that he was still clutching as he spoke. There were Apex members who didn’t even have a key to this bungalow. ONLY her closest members. Her most trusted companions. Her Court, as Simon called it… Where did  _ he  _ fit in on that court?

Jalicia was asking questions about what type of training and drills would they be expected to learn, as she had spring semester to think about and her agenda was a little bit more full than last fall. She was treating it exactly like she was in a classroom or something, because she was confused about what was happening, and he sounded pretty certain.

Simon spoke pretty gently to her, looking over the schedule in her phone with her and pointing out where he had already gotten that information from Grace and had taken it into consideration whenever he had set the training schedules. “Mostly, I’ll need maybe a week or two for you to show me what you do and how you do it, and I am gonna take what you’ve shown me, sprinkle my… intellectuality onto it, and then help you to optimize your technique. Disposing of Xs is not a life sentence, Apex.” Xander twitched when he heard Simon say that word. “It's something that none of you seem to wish to walk away from, but it  _ should  _ have an expiration date, and all of you should be able to live lives outside of the shadow of these things. For the time being, I’m here to help reach that goal, but I can’t be positive of how long it'll take us, until I’ve evaluated everyone’s contributions to the operation and established an endgame.”

“That sounds like a lot of power to be given to an O, just for catching one body in Grace’s name…” Xander said. 

Simon stepped towards him and he rushed towards Simon, but Sunny stepped in front of Xander and tilted her head at him. He paused, considering whether she was taking Simon’s side or protecting him.

“He has a key to the bungalow, and it sounds to me like he also has Grace’s ear and her tongue. You’d better think real hard on whether or not you want that back, and act accordingly,” Sunny warned. 

Simon smiled, “Thank you, Sunetra.”

“We’re here for Grace, Timonthy.”

“We’re sticking with that one, I guess?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. La’Dont.” Xander sulked, but knew that Sunny was right. To Xander's begrudging satisfaction, Simon was more efficient in some of the areas they needed help with, and Grace had clearly sent him to represent her wishes for this meeting. 

Sunny was still giving him shit, obviously, but she knew when to listen up, because Simon speaking is basically Grace speaking, now. She knew that it might take Grace a moment to let them back in after December’s antics. The best way that she might get back to good with Grace was starting to look like Simon. “At any rate,” she added on, after teasing him, “Whatever you need, you may know that Xander is Grace’s right hand and I am her left. Whatever she has you doing, I know that I’ll be backing you and I’m sure Xan will do it too.”

“I’ll hate every moment of it,” Xander admitted, forcing a smile. 

“Growth can be painful,” Simon said. 

Ignoring the sound of rustling as Xander advanced on him again, with Sunny and Jalicia physically intervening, Simon asked the only one who hadn’t reacted or said a single word, “Alexandria, anything that you need to express concerns about?” He turned to the quiet tattooed woman and she looked nervous to have attention on her. “We were a little bit curious about why you hadn’t come to the hospital or the guest house yet.” 'To see Grace' was implied.

“She doesn’t want to see me. The rest of them are on her nerves always trying to grovel for her, and she doesn’t want to see them, either. That’s why you’re here. When Grace wants to see me, she’ll send for me.” She folded her arms, flustered by the attention on her. She figured that Simon probably HATED her for the fake art trap, but Grace may be mad about a lot of things, but she wasn't going to let anybody punish her friends. 

Nobody but her, that is - with her silence and refusal to see them. With sending him, HIM of all people to run point with them in her absence… maybe even HE had taken control of the Apex, completely. Grace flitted from thing to thing and paid or assigned others to do stuff like planning, but she usually approved every plan she believed in and none of this even sounded like her. "She knows where to find me whenever she needs me. She always knows." 

"Fair enough," Simon said. He didn’t want to even be here with these people after how they had tried to set him up, but Grace loved them and the same way that she wasn’t going to allow them to hurt him; she wasn’t going to allow him to hurt them either. 

But, seeing Alexandria's face and having her acting like HE did HER something was frustrating and the last thing he was going to do while assimilating them to getting used to him as virtually Grace’s second in command, was to be angry at each other, argue, or fight. "I'll see you all tomorrow."

“Whoa, that’s it?” Jalicia wondered. “How’s Grace?”

Jalicia was the one that Simon was the LEAST irritated with. He knew that she wouldn’t have left Grace of her own accord and he didn’t really believe that she had anything to do with setting him up for Xander, either. She was the only person in this room whose teeth he didn’t want to kick in for… everything that had happened. And after watching her and seeing her constant pain, the only one that still he felt bad for. “She’s recovering. She loves all of you.” He gave her a squeeze to the shoulder and Sunny noted that maybe Jalicia would be a doorway back to Grace. Simon had pretty clearly favored her tonight.

They hung back to discuss what had just taken place. The last thing that Simon heard was Xander fuss, "She's shutting us out!" Simon could not help but to smile to himself about that.

.

She was curious to know how it went and Simon gave her all of the details, sprinkled with his own disdain, accordingly. He still was angry with them for leaving her. Even though he wasn’t saying that, Grace knew.

She didn’t blame them for leaving, at all. Had they brought her to the ER, or stuck around, it might not have been as easy to get the stories straight and to get them out of trouble, the way it was for Simon. He had more privilege when it came to legal matters than anybody in that van, and with their past records and their deviations from normalcy, not to mention they weren’t financially elevated like the Monroes or even Simon… It was the smart thing for them to leave, and it was why that WAS a rule, in the first place. It was far too risky to everyone else and the entire operation if they all faced charges because one person fell behind. 

But, she couldn’t shake the fact that she had felt so compelled to rush towards the X and risk it all, because she thought her time with the Apex was beginning to wane. She couldn’t help but blame it on her state of mental confusion and distraction from the mutiny of them trying to hurt Simon. Then, that reminded her that one of the main reasons she was even away for weeks, was because they had such strong opinions of how unsafe Simon was and that she had followed the advice from her friends and let go of someone who literally became a murderer to keep her safe. 

That shouldn’t feel so good. She knew that, but… the people who were willing to kill for her had all been so fucked up for so long that she… well… she still felt like they were human, but like they were… humans who were set apart from ones like Simon. Simon was supposed to be part of a completely different world. Simon was supposed to be good and wholesome, but because he made some… poor choices, she had turned on him and he was the only person who cared about her without being tied to the same trauma… and… now… he was tied to it. 

“I hope you aren’t thinking about me while making that face,” Simon interrupted her thoughts. She glanced at a nearby mirror and saw how wrinkled her forehead was, then took a deep breath and forced a smile. Simon wrapped his arms around her ankles and rubbed her foot, “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“I’m sorry that I’ve pulled you into… my world.”

“I pushed my way in,” he said. She pulled her feet back and held her wound. He quickly let go and worried that he might have hurt her. 

“You tiptoed in, and I left the door open, hoping that you would.” She laid on her side, facing away from him. “I turned you into a stalker and a killer in less than a year’s time.” 

Simon snuggled up to her and wrapped an arm around her, speaking directly into her hair, “You’ve helped me to become a hero. I protected a queen, and I slayed a dragon.”

“We aren’t in Esmoroth, Simon.”

“Damn straight, we aren’t. These monsters are real.”

“I’m no queen. I’m an angry girl that wanted revenge and I got my dumbass shot.” She sniffled, “I almost died, I can’t walk, and I don’t know if my friends still want or need me.”

“You’re justifiably angry, and I’m thankful that you didn’t die, but I would be lying if I said that I’m not a little bit happy that you…” She turned around quickly and winced, but kept her focus on his face. “Happy that you are taking a break from battle. I hate that it happened this way.” She snuggled into him and let him hold her until she fell asleep. She was too tired to respond to that yet. At least she was starting to get some sleep at night.

  
  



	17. Faith in Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now, a little bit of history about a girl they called 808

She had been working on her artwork again. The first time she got interested in it was whenever she was in the institution. Prior to that, whenever she wanted art, she had gotten it from The Apex, namely 808. So, that was who she “turned to,” while making her therapeutic artwork. She became a muse of sorts, even if it had only been for a time, and even if Grace didn’t even realize it at the time. 

_ Whenever she was locked up, she had been asked about her goals. It was a really bizarre question and it took her and her psychiatrist a long time to even get her to the point of comprehending just what the woman was asking. Basically, she wanted to know what Grace wanted out of her treatment, her life, and herself. At the time, all Grace wanted was to take care of her Apex family. So, her goal was, “To go home,” and whatever that entailed was what she was willing to do. _

_ Her parents were there frequently, having every possible visit that they could have with her. She was awkward every time, barely remembering the days when she wanted their attention so much that she had literally risked her entire life just to be noticed. She felt so stupid now. The only way for her to NOT feel stupid was to try to forget that girl ever existed. Whoever she was when she was 10 and left these people, she certainly was not by the time she was 18, and that kid had been beaten to death, as far as she was concerned. She wasn’t trying to ever revive her. RIP to Grace Monroe, but I’m different. _

_ Still, she felt for the Monroes. She herself had personally lost two kids, right before her own eyes, and several others out of sight. She knew that it was hard for them, maybe even as hard, if not harder for them as it was for her, looking at them. She tried not to be angry with them for never finding her, for giving up, moving on, and letting her rot away on the streets. She blamed them for having to watch herself burn and to come through the fire as someone whose face seemed unfamiliar to herself and whose hands were so drenched in blood that she seriously wondered if they would ever be clean. But… getting along with these, now, complete strangers was part of the proof that she was growing, and ready for release. It took her a couple of years to convince anybody - her parents, her doctors, hell, herself that she was capable of doing anything besides play acting as a person and getting violently angry when nobody was convinced. _

_ Her doctor asked, “What do you think keeps you from showing your real feelings?” _

_ “Showing my real feelings is why I’m HERE and not with my family.” _

_ “Your family comes to see you all of the time and you never seem to really want to engage with them.” _

_ “Ugh. Not the Monroes. The Apex!” _

_ “Do you want to talk more about them?”  _

_ Grace had been avoiding it. She worried that no matter WHAT this woman said, the police would storm through the abandoned train or the warehouse and take all of them away, separate them and never let them see each other again. But, maybe if she was careful, and didn’t give away any clues, that wouldn’t happen. She DID want to talk about them. She thought about them every waking moment. “They were my kids. I was their leader. I’m responsible for them, and now, 747 has to take care of them. He’s good for a few days, maybe, and it’s a really big maybe, a few weeks… But, for how long I’ve been away from them… For all I know, 152 has to take care of them… and I don’t know if he has the stomach. Maybe 1K will step in. Just maybe… but… I’m not there, so I can’t know for sure. Somebody could be murdering one of them right now, for all I know. Every time I try to sleep, I see their blood spilling. I wake up with it on my hands…” She hugged herself, crying now. “There was nothing left of Hazel to even hold. It wasn’t like with Todd. Todd’s face was gone, but I got to hug him, to apologize. Hazel was… there were remains, but it was like… saying goodbye to… to… wreckage. Human wreckage. Other people killed them, but MY hands were supposed to be holding theirs. They weren’t supposed to die. They weren’t supposed to have to hurt that way.” _

_ “There are a lot of things that happen that feel like they aren’t supposed to.Some can argue that nothing is supposed to happen. That things happen as a result of millions of other threads and that none of them can be foreseen by those that they happen to. You say that you were meant to protect these kids, but you couldn’t have been there for each and every one of them every moment of every day. One of the most human things in the world is to expect more of ourselves than humanly possible, and those expectations are magnified in childhood. Whenever you consider all of the chronic trauma you were going through, and add all of these elements into your development, you should treat yourself with the same gentleness that you intend to treat your kids. If you could give them anything at all right now, what would it be?” _

_ “I can’t give them anything…” Grace said, helplessly. _

_ “Imagine it this way… If you had all the power in the world, all the money, all the access to everything good and right, what would you do for them?” _

_ “Oh! I would put them up in nice places to live - with warm beds and complete meals. They wouldn’t have to steal or break into somewhere for that. They’d have it everyday. Food, clothing, shelter… That seems like the kind of stuff that should be free to all kids, no matter who they are. So, I’d probably see who I can talk to about making it so that it’s illegal not to feed and clothe and shelter kids. I mean… They say it IS illegal, but it's not  /illegal/ illegal. Like, sure, if you’re not giving that stuff to your kid and somebody calls the kiddie people on you and they come in and see that the kids don’t have it, after they’ve told you a few times to get your act together, they’ll take the kids and put them somewhere where they’ll have the stuff, but it’s like cheap stuff and in a place with a bunch of strangers and stuff. And if the parents CAN’T give the kids that stuff… They shouldn’t have to go live in a kiddie prison. Lot of those Apex kids came from group homes and stuff because their parents lost them. From how they explain the system to me, it didn’t sound like programs were really there to help them at all - just to maybe stop people from hurting them, IF anybody even noticed. Some of the kids… nobody did notice and they left home on their own, wound up getting taken. That's not fair. There should never be remedial action for taking care of kids. From the moment that they’re born, whether or not their parents can afford it, they should be given everything that they need.” _

_ “You want your kids to have needs. Is there anything else?” _

_ “Of course! There’s loads else. They get sick and we try to figure out the meds. I’d make sure that they can see real doctors and get real meds. Make sure that they get real help for ailments and stuff. And then there’s the ones that still have dreams. They still wanna do cool stuff with their lives one day. 808 wanted to be an artist and go to France. I’d make sure that she got to do that, and stuff like that. I don’t know! There’s like a thousand kids! I can’t tell you every single thing that they need in one little sitting!” _

_ “That’s okay. To sum it up, it sounds to me that if you had nothing holding you back, what you would be willing to give them all is everything that they need to live their best lives and in addition to that, the things that would make them happy.” _

_ “Yeah,” Grace said. ‘ Obviously,’ she thought. _

_ “I want to challenge you to do something.” _

_ “I love a challenge.” _

_ “I want to challenge you to give everything that you have the power to give, and give all of that to yourself.” _

_ “What.” _

_ “Everything that you need? Accept it. Everything that you want? Embrace it. Take the power and the resources that being here allows you and treat yourself, with those, like you would one of your kids.” _

_ Grace struggled with this. Sure, she had been known to be very self absorbed and even egotistical to a huge degree, but the fact of the matter was that her kids were her responsibility… But… She guessed… Now, SHE was her responsibility. What the hell did she even “want,” now. Books. _

_ Grace had always been an avid reader, and whenever she was kidnapped, that didn’t go away. Sure, it was a couple of years before she was able to read regularly, but she would definitely always gather up books from those book donation bins when she was at the warehouse and she stole so many books over the years from stores, stands, and even the library, that she could confidently say that she read everyday for at least the past 6 years. It was the only way that she had to do things. She had been a little behind on the Internet, since she wasn’t really allowed on it by herself whenever she was taken, and by the time she was the leader, they were able to get into public libraries whenever something serious came up and they didn’t know what to do (and if you’re wondering, the reason that they didn’t think to look up their parents or things like that was because Grace was the oldest… and it definitely didn’t occur to her that you could find people on that thing. She wasn’t even fully cognizant of what social media even was). The concept of “You can find anything on the internet,” in her mind meant articles about what to do when a kid is allergic to beestings and has been stung, or pictures of turtles and cats, She felt so STUPID now… _

_ Reading was a good escape for a while, but after a few weeks, she began to lose focus a lot, or rather, she would be focusing on a lot of different things. The fact that she was nurturing herself while her kids were still out there alone, every kid’s face, what they must be thinking after having seen her pummel Bugle with a bat.. “Reading isn’t working!” she complained. Nobody had told her that she had to read, nor that reading would “work” to help her with her feelings. She had desired to read.  _

_ So, the psychiatrist confirmed, “Would you like to try another activity besides reading?” _

_ She nodded, aggressively and nodded her head. That was when her parents paid for art classes. She was able to have one on one, supervised lessons and they of course, chose the finest that they could afford, for the situation… and they doubled the pay. Grace didn’t love learning, but new experiences brought her joy. _

_ She was trying to recreate symbols that 808 had created in her graffiti and doodles. She would try to remember how the girl had drawn names together, or made a pattern out of their numbers, or even the general structure of how she made faces. She couldn’t… but she had begun drawing now, getting why it had been so effective in taming 808. It wasn’t that it was necessarily calming - in fact, for Grace, drawing often had an opposite effect of calm, but it was… distracting. _

_ She didn’t think about all of the different things that her brain would rush through whenever she was set on trying to create something. She drew odd pictures of Hazel being a turtle, transforming, or hiding out in her shell, waiting for the dangers to go away before she peeked out. She drew her as a girl, enjoying life with the Apex, being happy and perfect. She drew her as an angel. She wondered… Did she make it to some other place, or was her legacy simply a cautionary tale for street kids? ‘Don’t trust strangers or run away from home. You might wind up in a gang and get crushed by a train.’ Or was there more to life, and if there was, what was out there? _

_ Grace had never thought about that before. Her first 10 years were all about appearance and reputation. Growing up seeing her mother on magazine covers, many of which were immortalized in frames in their home, she aimed for beauty and poise. Her mother’s walk always reminded her of a melody, as the woman was performing, even when there was not a camera in sight. Her walk was a strut down the runway and her speech was a charming interlude to an neverending ball, filled to capacity with important people. _

_ In the home, Grace realized that she couldn’t remember how her mother looked. She had forgotten her father’s face ages ago, but she would steal mirrors whenever she was younger and if she looked in one, for a while, she would see her mother. They had the same face. As she grew up, she still looked into mirrors, but her mother’s face had faded. Her own face had faded. Did she ever look like the woman that she used to call “Mom?” Did she always look like this girl in the mirror?  _

_ A thing about the latter numbers - they came a little bit later and a little more stretched apart. The couple of years that the first 500 were brought in, they’d come from a variety of places and situations. Any addict with a jones might have traded their kid for cash, any gang member trying to get street cred might have handed over some unattended kid that they found in the park to a steward in exchange for a weapon or something to sell and build on. The first 500 had been more organized of an operation, as far as secrecy and hiding, but it had been kind of erratic and messy in handling business. The first 500 had been hard to figure out how to feed and house and keep under control.  _

_ But, the first 500 had gotten this little bit of information from the stewards about the first 100.  _

_ According to the stewards, the first 100 were hard to control and hard to hide, so they had taken all of the ones that they couldn’t control and disfigured them. Harder to fight back when you only had one hand. Harder to talk back when you didn’t have a tongue. Harder to run away when your legs had been broken. Of course, they were too young to know that damaging kids in such a way made them virtually useless, so the fear of being cut or broken was enough for many of them. For those it wasn't, there were the vanishing tales. The first 100, even the ones who had been good and smart, along with those disfigured and virtually useless had to be sold off quick for a pending raid. They were sold to some foreign business man and what happened to them beyond that was up to the steward telling the tale’s discretion. _

_ Grace had heard that those with any use were put to work and that the useless ones were locked in a freezer and used as meat to feed the worker children. It was a scary thought whenever she first heard it. But. As she got older, she thought it was inspirational. Either you have use and you use your skills to further things, or you’re useless and will be discarded, replaced, or eaten. It made her mindful of figuring out what good the kids were for (much like the steward who took the money and ran told her) - with her gifts, she was worth more to the stewards than some of the other kids.  _

_ So, whenever kids came in, any after 500, when it was a slow business of getting new kids and more of an industry of maintaining the child slaves that they had, Grace was usually the one trying to assess them and appraise them. She would take those with value under her wings and keep them close, and help them navigate. The ones that she didn’t do this with, she tried not to think about how hard their journey might be… where they might wind up… in the belly of a beast or at the bottom of the river. Alexandria was one of those kids… not the ones that she took under her wing… one of the ones she expected to wind up in the river.  _

_ First off, she didn’t pay attention. She didn’t listen. She didn’t assimilate or adjust. She was always trying to run away. The stories of getting maimed didn’t scare her. The thought of being eaten didn’t move her. But, the idea of spending the rest of her life in the warehouse, unable to draw and paint and make things beautiful or feel things that she enjoyed… 808 preferred the idea of death. She also preferred the practice of self preservation. It befuddled the others.  _

_ Because before her, both things weren’t optional. Who chooses both themselves and death? Who chooses not to listen, but also to protect themselves? Who would come to a place like this and try to both make the best of it, and also to do everything in their power to make it difficult? 808. That was who.  _

_ “What do we make of the new girl?” Xander wondered. _

_ “She’s really scared,” Heath said. “She’s like 747 was. We need to help her.” _

_ Grace shook her head, “I don’t think she can be helped. She’s gonna be fish food before too long, and I don’t want her to drag any of you down with her whenever she gets tossed out.” _

_ “You thought the same things about 7,” Heath reminded her. Xander gasped. “And now, he’s the most helpful kid here.” _

_ Grace shrugged her shoulders. “You’re free to check. If it turns out that I’m wrong, I’ll eat crow. But, I’m positive, that girl is not one of us.” She wondered how 808 was, when they were apart, more than anybody else. She was Xander’s girlfriend, so maybe she was helping him to hold things together out there. But, what if she wasn’t? What if something happened to her, or to them, or to him? Were they gonna see Hazel and Todd again? Were they gonna just be dead and gone and haunting her dreams for the rest of her life? _

_ “When people die, do they go to a good place?” She asked, drawing sketches of the Apex, in her own developing style.  _

_ “There are a lot of different perspectives about it.”  _

_ “What’s yours?” _

_ “It isn’t actually something that is professional to discuss with you, but I assure you, whatever your perspective is, I wouldn’t judge you or try to lean you in a different direction, so long as your perspective isn’t harming anyone.” _

_ “Do they have books about it?” _

_ “Millions of them.” _

_ “I need some. Do we have some in the library?” _

_ “We have various subjects. Next library visit, we can ask them for something that you might be looking for.” _

_ Grace began to study religion and philosophy a lot. She began to research psychology and sociology in her busy time. She began to take proper classes again and try to revisit her love of foreign languages and dance. She started… relaxing into the idea that she might be able to do more to help the Apex if she was better, herself, and if she didn’t get better as a person, then she would put her street smarts to work and get better as a hustler, so she could get the hell out of there and back to her family.  _

_ A few key things happened whenever she was into her studies and training herself to act like a normal person… She began to attend mass at the chapel - this institution was affiliated with a hospital, affiliated with a church. She hadn’t ever in her life thought about rebirth or resurrection or restoration. She had never thought about salvation. But, it sounded interesting. Not the parts about self sacrifice and worshiping God… but the parts about repenting from old ways, and becoming a new creature, a new person, washed clean and living with purpose. That all sounded like nice stuff and the chaplain was pretty sweet, so she liked to use this, too, as a distraction. _

_ The other thing was that she was given, by this sweet chaplain, a comprehensive book of saints. She began drawing her friends as saints, each and every one of them, but never herself. Something didn’t feel right about that. Somebody else had to declare you a saint. A church or whatever, but like… for her own artwork, anybody she chose could be a saint, who would stop her?  _

_ “Joan of Arc killed people!” she said, excitedly. “She led troops! She was a soldier, a fighter, a leader. She was fighting for her people, against oppressors… against monsters…”  _

_ “You seem to be enjoying your book. Do you identify with or maybe even look up to Joan of Arc?” _

_ “I identify!” She cheered. “But, what’s even more interesting… She flipped through the pages, which had been tagged, and notated, the whole book through, is that she claimed to have been counselled by Catherine of Alexandria, who, while not a warrior in her day was a leader, a scholar, and one badass bitch. She was so eloquent and confident and fearless. Imagine that - not fearing death, for what you believe in? And IF, IF she DID counsel Joan of Arc, she also believed in retribution. She believed in battle. She believed in bloodshed, if it was right…” _

_ Her life was changed. She didn’t get any visits from saints, or have any visions, but she suddenly felt like she knew who she was, who she had to become, and what she needed to do. No… it didn’t occur to her to start killing aggressors or to avenge the Apex… that was already inside of her, and she had killed before and wasn’t hesitant of doing so again. What this did was give her faith in something that she wasn’t sure that she really had before… herself. A woman on a mission with a belief, a brain and bravery could change the world and make history, and she was such a woman. After she was released, she changed her name and started this new life, this uncertain mission.  _

_ First and foremost, she would lead the Apex to society, get their needs met - food, clothing, shelter, healthcare, etc. She would not have called herself a saint, but she did change her name to St. Catherine, so… yeah, she would… a little bit. Who was going to stop her? _

_ It made her think of 808, though. She wasn’t around whenever Grace went looking for them. She had moved on. The last Sunny knew of, Tuba had offered her a place, but she promised to get word to her that Grace was back. Grace went to find her, to apologize to Tuba, and explain why she felt she had to do what she did, to look at Bugle, but she felt no need to apologize to her. She wouldn’t have comprehended it anyway. 808 had a tattoo, by then. Grace didn’t know what it was supposed to be, at first, but noticed it was a lit ball bomb. Cute. She was only 16, but Grace imagined that she probably did that to herself. Tuba was far more understanding than expected. She had already heard the full story, What Bugle had done to Hazel… it was understandable how Grace had reacted. But, whenever she invited 808 to come along with her, because she knew of a place where they could have all their needs met and be free, Alexandria laughed in her face, “Grace… I AM free. I’m the free-est that I’ve ever been. No thanks to you. You, who left us and went and got yourself all cleaned up and fancy.” She picked up one of Grace’s locs, “My, how your hair has grown…” _

_ Grace sighed and pulled something out of her backpack, “I was thinking about what you said that you wanted to do. You wanted to go be an artist, in France…” I’ve been looking into it and I found an art school in France. You can make a portfolio and we can…” _

_ “What the fuck are you talking about?” She looked at Alexandria’s expression. She looked furious. She looked like she wanted to hurt her. “You vanished for a year, got yourself taken care of, and you think that you get to just come back here and just dangle some childhood dream of mine in my face and what, I’ll just throw my arms around you and take you back? You never wanted me anyway. You never felt like I was one of you. Why are you here?” _

_ Grace twisted the printout in her hands, “I… was wrong. You were one of us. You were always somebody that I leaned on, 808…” _

_ “ I NEVER reclaimed my number, you just always insisted that I do! _

_ Nobody calls me that shit anymore!” She hissed.  _

_ “Alexandria,” Grace said. She looked down at the ground. The thought that she wouldn’t be received with love by everybody never crossed her mind. She presumed that they all would be just as happy to see her as she was to get back to them, and it had been a long, LONG time since she hadn’t seen 808 as one of them. Alexandria… “If you ever changed your mind about the school, I have a scholarship with your name on it.” She extended the papers and Alexandria snatched them from her hand and tossed them aside. “ I thought about you a lot whenever I was in there. I took some art classes to try to get as good as you, but it didn’t pan out,” she laughed nervously, sadly. Alexandria softened, She wasn’t sure WHY she was so mad at Grace. Grace had always held her close to her side, even though she had a feeling that she didn’t like her as much as the others, she trusted her and seeing Grace sad caused a very visceral reaction inside of her. Grace pulled out a rolled up canvas and handed it to her, “My best work… It’s you, but as Joan of Arc.” Alexandria accepted that a little more gently than she did the papers, and as Grace walked away, she unrolled it and cried, for the first time in a while, definitely since Grace hadn’t been around, but maybe longer than that, much longer. _

_ “Grace!” The woman turned and Alexandria rolled the artwork back up, “It’s beautiful. It’s really nice. Your style is amazing.” Grace bit her lip and shrugged her shoulders, but her eyes looked a little less sad, and Alexandria felt such a rush, from just that one moment of effecting Grace Monroe. SHE had moved Grace. She… mattered to her… She watched her go and cried harder. She never did make it to that art school, but she was able to take the scholarship money and open her tattoo shop whenever she finished her apprenticeship, so… she… did in a way feel like she owed Grace, whenever she next called upon her, and the way that Grace would light up when she saw her and treat her like an equal, some of the time… it was better than dopamine. It was… enough to keep her in that web that Grace spun, whether she intended to or not.  _

It was why, even though she knew Grace was upset with them all, it gave her butterflies to know that Grace wanted her to check on her, to come see about her. She wouldn’t do it, Grace was too upset and she didn’t want to have to face her after what she had done… but she did love that feeling it gave her when she knew that Grace cared. That she mattered to Grace. 

That simp O was right about it that night. She… had an effect on people, on Alexandria. She wouldn’t go by to see her, but she did send her a piece of artwork with a fancy scripted note that read, “I’m sorry,” on the top

Grace unrolled the canvas and saw the image of herself, painted as a saint. Catherine of Alexandria, and it read: Grace St. Catherine. Grace opened the card and written in Alexandria’s handwriting was a question, “Did you know that Catherine mentored Joan of Arc?” and on the back, “Of course you did. Show off.” But, Grace read it in Alexandria’s voice and knew just the smartass inflection that sent it from a pissy declaration into a show of her jaded affection. She turned to Simon and said, “Alexandria finally checked in with me! Look at what she made me!” She was very excited and awestruck. “She’s so talented. So talented. Always was.” Simon had to listen to her gush about how Alexandria and Xander used to splice their names together when they tagged places, how they were Xan and Xan and called their ship name Xannax and other… things… that he not only didn’t care about but hated to hear. He didn’t like them. He would get along with them for her benefit, but those were not his allies. He definitely would use them for what he needed - to get all of this Date Night shit out of the way and in the read view mirror, so that he could FINALLY have Grace all to himself and she wouldn;t have to worry about this mission that almost got her killed for a bunch of ingrates who not only would rip the two of them apart if they could, would resort to trickery to do so, and the worst sin in his mind… leave her to die…

“I made you something too!” he interrupted, jealous and frustrated by all of this tenfold forgiveness that she granted them. To his extreme pleasure, her smile grew and her face brightened. “Well, I’m in the process of it, but I think it’s gonna be great. I think you’ll love it.” 

She smiled softly and booped his nose, “I’m sure I will,” she said. She had taken the hint. He was feeling some kind of way about her excitement over Alexandria’s gift. She didn’t think it was necessarily jealousy so much as the fact that Alexandria had done him a huge disservice by creating that fake art that sent him back down this downward spiral, and that was one of the main reasons why Grace wasn’t going to fault him too much for his… possessive ways right now. They had a lot of other things that they could focus on and work through. He was trying to live without her and thanks to her own, he had failed at that. She wasn’t going to forget that when dealing with him, nor could she forget that they were the reason that they had been apart in the first place. 49 whole days, according to Simon. It felt longer - to both of them, but he felt at least entitled to that much time for him to have her to himself  _ without  _ them, and she was in no condition to entertain, anyway, so she found that not only agreeable, but a relief. His intensity whenever she spoke too fondly about her friends was troubling, but at the time, she didn’t feel like she was in any position to articulate her unease without disrespecting this huge life change that he was going through. She had been a murderer for years. Simon had only just done this and it was on the heels of a long, lonely winter. She just… didn’t have the heart to address some shit like that right now. Anyways, Valentine’s Day was soon approaching… technically, it had almost been a year since they noticed each other. It should be a good one. She was going through her own things too, but… she wanted to focus on the good things.


End file.
